Great Powers Collide
by I can never tell
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky and Katsuki Yuuri are injured during warmup. Yuri goes against the advice of his coach, his competitor, and his trainer and decided to compete anyway. All Yuri wants to do is prove himself. He will give everything for a chance at first place, but will that drive cost him everything? Could a stubborn attitude lead to a career ending injury?
1. Moscow

**Exposition~ they're not mine. But they've become a part of me.**

They hit brutally with the sound of thunder. The audience gave a collective gasp. The other competitors turned their heads making large loops to avoid the fallen skaters.

"There's been a collision on the ice. Yuri Plisetsky and Katsuki Yuuri are down," The female commentator said. Back in Hasetsu, the Katsuki family stood in shock, eyes glued to the TV screen. "They don't seem to be getting up, I really hope it wasn't as bad as it looked."

"Wow… it's really a shame, an injury at this level would be devastating," the male commentator chimed in. On the ice Yuri dared to open his eyes, the impact had knocked the wind right out of him.

"Ah! Yuuri you stupid pig! Watch where you're going!" Yuri barked. He struggled to his elbows a shooting pain echoed through his ribcage. He looked over at the body laying next to him. Yuuri hadn't moved. His eyes were closed. The sound That pork cutlet bowl's head had made when it collided with the ice resonated Yuri's ears. The stadium had gone silent.

"All skaters please exit the ice. I repeat, all skaters please exit the ice," the announcer's voice radiated through the room.

"Yuuri!" Victor shouted, sprinting onto the ice. His coat flapped behind him as he dove onto his knees, kicking ice up behind him as he slid to Yuuri's side. His heart was pounding as he looked at the limp body in front of him. Blood seeped onto the ice, collecting in the cracks beneath Yuuri's head. _Don't move him. Don't touch his head. Don't risk his neck._ The voice inside Victor's head shouted.

Victor's hands fluttered helplessly, his vision swayed and suddenly he couldn't tell if Yuuri was breathing. He dropped his head on his chest. There. Victor felt the slow rise and fall. He listened to the strong heartbeat letting it ease his nerves.

"Is he…?" Yuri asked, struggling to get a better look.

"Knocked out…" Victor trailed off. "You collided hard. Can you get up? Can you stand?" Victor asked. Yuri looked at him defiantly.

"I'm fine," he snarled. Yuri attempted to get his knees beneath him when a wave of pain made him cry out. Victor looked startled at his outburst. Wrapping his arm around his side Yuri fell back onto the ice in defeat. He couldn't stop the pathetic trembling of his shoulders or even worse the childlike whimper that escaped his lips.

"Stay down Yurio, help's coming." Victor's words were directed at him, but his eyes were locked on Yuuri, his hand wrapped tightly around Yuuri's. Victor's concern flooded his voice, it protruded from his body language, but that concern was recognizably one sided.

Yuri's lungs contracted forcing all his air out. He rolled onto his back trying to catch his breath. Every time he inhaled a dagger was thrown into his side. Even though he was gasping only wisps of oxygen managed to get through. He closed his eyes tightly trying desperately just to breathe. Across the ice, the medical team was on their way with a spine board. Most of them went straight to Katsuki, ready to carry the unconscious skater off the ice.

Victor's hands were unsteady as he watched two medical trainers carefully load Yuuri's limp body onto the spine board. The second Yuuri's head was secured it was a race out of the rink. Victor looked over his shoulder and saw a medical assistant trying to coax Yuri up off the ice. He was able to pull Yuri to his feet. The young skater was clearly unsteady. The medical assistant attempted to offer assistance but Yuri pushed away from him, coasting toward the gate. His head felt dizzy, his side was burning and his right calf refused to accept any weight. Yakov was waiting at the gate, his hand was outstretched. He almost didn't make it, tripping over the small step off the ice. Yakov prevented him from falling, pulling his student to his side. Reporters and Cameras swarmed them.

"Will Yuuri and Yuri be able to compete?"

"What does this mean for the upcoming finals?"

"Who is responsible for the accident?"

"Will the skaters be hospitalized?"

"Yuri Plisetsky, what exactly happened out there?" Microphones and cameras were forced into Yuri's face. The young skater hung his head, his hair blocking the flashing lights.

"Out of the way! Get out of my way!" Coach Yakov pushed past the press, dragging Yuri through the chaos. A reporter was pushed aside roughly, he fell against the wall with daggers for eyes.

"Yuri…" Lilia appeared. She supported his other side, being gentle with his aching ribcage. "Let's go, get him out of this crowd."

Yuri was escorted to the small trainer's room. Yuuri was awake by the time he arrived, Victor glued to his side. The head trainer was already giving him an exam. Waiting on the other side of the room Yuri was shivering, teeth chattering, his warmup jacket was soaked through with ice cold water. Minutes of discomfort had passed. Yakov had already stripped off his skates and Lilia was barking questions at him.

"How are your knees? Did you twist an ankle?" Yuri rolled his eyes,

"let me off this stupid thing," he complained, trying to climb off the treatment table.

"Yuri don't you dare," Yakov threatened.

"I'm fine Yakov." Yuri hopped down clumsily to his feet. Two trainer assistances stood idle as if their only job was to tackle him if he did anything stupid. "Quit hovering already!" He demanded.

On the other side of the room, the head trainer was shining a penlight into Yuuri's eyes. The Japanese skater looked alright, a bit dazed it anything. Victor stood by his side worry etched in his face. The trainer settled back on his heels a relaxed grin on his face.

"Concussion for sure but nothing to be too concerned about. The head laceration isn't deep if the bleeding stops in the next half hour it won't need stitches." He thumped Yuuri's shoulder, "you got lucky kid, could have been a lot worse." It was clear Yuuri didn't feel lucky, though. He hung his head, victor laid a hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Yuuri, there's still time to qualify at the next competition." Yuri's eyes widened, the piggy wasn't going to compete? _After all the work I put in my program, all the hours on the ice, all for nothing,_ Yuri thought. His hands closed into fists at his sides. The head trainer crossed the room.

"You're on your feet. That's a good sign." Yuri scowled at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's take a look, see what we're dealing with."

A glare from Yakov and Yuri was stripping out of his jacket. The trainer pulled up a stool and began examining Yuri's bare chest. The whole left side of his ribcage had become a sickening shade of red. Streaks of purple highlighted specific ribs. The trainer's eyebrows knit together. "Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" Yuri shook his head once, his movements were sharp, his breathing almost nonexistent. The trainer prodded the bruises. Yuri flinched. His hand gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. He caught Yuuri staring wide-eyed.

"What are you looking at pig?" He roared.

"I-uh…" Yuuri stammered. "You're bleeding."

Yuri looked down to see the bottom of his right pant leg turning crimson. The trainer made Yuri sit as he bandaged the deep gouge in his right calf.

"Were you planning on mentioning you'd been cut?" the trainer asked. Yuri stared forward hard-faced. Stupid Katsudon must have stuck me with his toe pick, Yuri thought bitterly.

"I hadn't realized." The trainer looked at him skeptically,

"Is there anything else you've failed to mention? A headache, joint pain, anything?"

Yuri shook his head. In truth, everything was aching. His head was spinning and he was sure there was a bump forming behind his right ear. His elbows and palms were scrapped and his back was throbbing. Of course, he would never admit any of that, especially with Victor and Yuuri sitting across from him. The trainer waited for a response. On receiving nothing, he sighed,

"You're definitely going to need x-rays. Bone bruising down the left side and 2 maybe 3 fractures. Both of you," he said, looking at Yuuri, "should get a once-over at the hospital."

"Not going to happen. Tape me up I have a competition to win," Yuri snarled.

"Not so fast Yura," Yakov started. Yuri held up a hand.

"I've worked too hard to disappoint on my home turf. There's nothing you could do to keep me from skating." Yakov glared daggers.

"This is incredibly irresponsible. Putting yourself at risk because of pride-"

"I can't walk away. If I can stand I can skate. This is all I've been trained to do, I'm not leaving without a win."

"You will not be competing. I'm having them scratch your performance. It's not safe," Yakov said.

"You think I give a damn about safety?! I'd rather throw myself down a flight of stairs then quit because of a few bruises," Yuri paused to catch his breath, his hand pressed to his side, "You're not looking out for me. You're just worried I won't perform well and it will affect your coaching record," Yuri growled.

"Tape him," Lilia said. The trainer looked at them startled.

"No way! Without an x-ray, there's no way of knowing for sure that it's just fractured. If your ribs are fully broken you could puncture a lung."

"Look he's going on the ice whether you like it or not," she said.

Yuri braced against the wall as the tape was wrapped tighter around his torso. He winced, "a little tight don't you think," he ground out.

"Shut up and let the man stabilize your ribs," Yakov said, arms crossed over his chest.

"I want it on the record this is going against medical advice."

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up will you? I have to get warmed up," Yuri said.

The tape was wrapped so tightly Yuri could hardly breathe. He paced the warmup area trying not to let his limp show. He had his headphones in blasting Agape. Yakov sat off to the side watching Yuri walk through his short program. Spin, combination, quad toe loop- landing on his right leg Yuri stumbled. Yakov shot to his feet,

"Yura!" he put a hand on Yuri's back. Yuri straightened up, his cheeks were flushed. "You don't have to do this. You have nothing to prove." Yuri shook off his hand,

"I tripped. It won't happen when I'm on the ice." Yakov scowled,

"If you go out on that ice it could very well be for the last time," he hissed through a clenched jaw. "You're in no condition to attempt multiple quads. If you injure yourself more that's it, that's the end of your career." Yuri wasn't angry, he wasn't afraid, something bigger was burning deep inside him. He met Yakov's eyes,

"I know I can do this." Yakov closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.

"Don't destroy yourself Yuri, it's not worth it." Yuri was too stubborn, to reckless. If he couldn't convince him with logic, maybe it was time to try a new tactic. Maybe it was time to put in him the fear of God.

"I have too many years experience to take this level of disrespect. After this competition, I will no longer function as your coach." Yuri's eyes widened,

"You're bluffing." Yakov looked at him, his gaze indifferent,

"Best of luck to you, Yuri Plisetsky." Yakov stood up straight. He adjusted his coat and walked out of the room never once looking back.

"Did you see that?" Whispers circled through the room. Every athlete and coach in the vicinity had their eyes on him. "His coach just walked out." Yuri felt a weight settle in his stomach.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he spat. Flipping up his hood he stormed out of the room and into the men's restroom. Stopping in front of the sinks he looked at himself in the mirror. _Pull it together Yuri. Yakov doesn't mean it. He'll change his mind. I'll prove him wrong by taking first place._

Once he had steadied his breathing Yuri walked out to the rink. He had just one more stake until it was his turn. Standing on the wall Yuri tried to focus his thoughts. _Spin combination into a quad toe loop - no. A quad lutz._

"Yurio?" Yuri turned sharply. Yuuri and Victor were watching him off to the side. Yuuri had a bandage wrapped around his head.

"What?" He asked sharply.

"Why are you doing this?" Yuuri asked, sincere concern on his face.

"I take what I want, no matter the cost."

"Yakov couldn't talk you out of skating then?" Victor asked.

"Yakov's gone," Yuri said.

"What?" Victor said, pushing the hair out of his face.

"He quit twenty minutes ago." Victor and Yuuri looked at each other. Yuri leaned over to stretch his legs trying to seem unbothered. Victor said something into Yuuri's ear and turned to walk out of the building.

"Shouldn't you be at a hospital or something?" Yuri asked.

"I convinced Victor to let me stay until your short program."

"That was stupid. I don't even want you here."

"That's what you want, huh? Just you alone against the world. Well too bad because like it or not you have people that care about you." Yuri was going to make a sly remark when suddenly he was given the two-minute warning. His heart pounded faster by the second. He couldn't even take a deep breath to calm his nerves because of the stupid tape around his chest. He braced against the wall of the rink, no coach, no team, no confidence. All feelings of agape had fled from him. "Hey, are you ok?" Yuuri stepped closer to him. Yuri could feel his legs shaking. _Maybe Yakov was right,_ he thought. He stood completely still, hands gripping the edge tightly. With shaky fingers, he unzipped his jacket. Stepping toward the gate Yuri pushed the hair out of his face. He looked back one last time. Yuuri could see the fear in his eyes, it was all too familiar to his own. Yuri put one foot on the ice, overhead the announcer's voice rang out,

"Up next Russian skater Yuri Plisetsky, skating to In Regards to Love: Agape. His short program was choreographed by Victor Nikiforov."

 **A.N~ More to come. I hope you were entertained. I'd love to know your thoughts until next time, I can never tell.**


	2. Chapter 2

Victor found Yakov leaning against the brick wall of the building. He was holding a lit cigarette but wasn't smoking it. "Yuri is about to start his short program," Victor said casually. Yakov flicked ash off the tip of his cigarette. "If we went in now we could watch him-"  
"Make a fool of himself," Yakov interrupted. Victor frowned.  
"That's it then, you're done? You're abandoning him right before his peak?"  
Yakov scoffed,  
"If he's not going to listen to his coach then what's the point in trying to coach him?"  
"He's behaving like I used to, you never gave up on me," Victor said. Yakov took a draw from the cigarette, blowing a line of smoke into the night air.  
"He tries to be like you but he's got it all wrong. You were defiant and stupid but you had boundaries. You understood personal limitations and overcame them gracefully. Yuri is too raw."  
"He's too young. He'll learn eventually but not if he has no one to teach him." Victor looked at his watch. "You made a commitment to each other. You've been his teacher his entire life. You saw potential in him, you grew him into the figure skater he is today." Yakov brushed ash off his sleeve lazily.  
"You're point?"  
"Dammit Yakov! You brought him into your home, you gave him a team, a family, you're telling me it doesn't make you sick to take that away from him," Victor's voice rose, his hands closed into fists at his sides. Yakov threw the cigarette to the ground, smashing it under his toe until the light went out.  
"Of course it does!" Yakov shot back. "But what am I supposed to do? Go in there and watch him destroy his confidence or worse his career? I've poured almost a decade of training into that boy and I'm not going to be there when he throws it away." there was a pause.  
"So that's what this is about, self-preservation. You've left to avoid the fallout. How incredibly selfish of you." Victor turned to walk back inside. "He's hurting Yakov, and about to throw himself to the wolves. Someone needs to be there to salvage what's left behind." Victor yanked open the door and marched inside.

Yuuri was standing close to the gate, his face was coated in worry. He barely noticed Victor stepping next to him. Yuri was standing in the middle of the ice. He stood at attention, his body rigid. "He's not going to make it through," Yuuri said under his breath. Victor's brow creased as he looked at the young skater his eyes were wide and empty. The music started and like clockwork Yuri raised his hand up and trailed it along his cheek. Pushing back on the edge of his skates he swung into a lazy loop. Pulling around he bent and extended both arms out like he was reaching out to Heaven. Victor followed the movies he'd watched a thousand times, the moves he designed around this music and he knew it was wrong. Yuri was brittle. He refused to let the music move him, refused to let his body sway and bend. As he bent back with his hands together you could see his composition failing. No doubt his ribs were paining him. Victor holds his breath as the first jump approaches, a quad toe loop.

Yuri swings his right leg around to jab and- not enough rotations. Yuuri exhales loudly as Yuri manages to remain upright. Yuri's spins are slow and loose, bound to be losing him technical points by the second. The next set of jumps, the combination is what Victor fears will give Yuri the most trouble. A quad salchow followed by a triple flip. Yuri prepared for the salchow, he jumped rotating only once before tumbling onto the ice. A pained expression is evident on his face as he struggles to stand.

Yuri's thoughts are murky, he tries to hold to the image of his grandfather but the jarring sensation in his side is screaming louder. Yuri wanted to cry out when the music signaled his quad lutz. He extended his leg behind him but his calf pulsed under his weight. His knee buckled before he was even able to attempt a full rotation sending him skidding onto his knees. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he once again climbed to his feet. Yakov watched the TV screen in the ice rink lobby heart sinking with every passing minute. Yuri struggles to breathe, gasping just to keep himself from passing out.  
"Just hold on Yuri, hold on," Victor muttered, counting down the seconds in his head.  
One more spin and it was over. Yuri pulled his arms inward, the momentum sent him spiraling. Like a top, he managed to spin in place. But this was the easy part. Buckling down he folded his body in half, reaching to pull his foot up under his other knee. His vision began to darken, the lights flickered. Reaching behind him he tried to pull his leg up, but pain threatened to snap him in half. He screamed folding in on himself. Crouched on his skates and hugging his sides Yuri listened to Apaga approach its end. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Yakov had seen enough. Yuri was frozen, hunched over in agony. He took off down the hall toward the rink.

Yuuri put his hands on his head and refused to watch any more. The guilt that had been slowly eating at him all day tried to swallow him whole. Victor hung his head he could hear the last chords responsible for holding Yuri up snap. Yuri used whatever determination he had left to slowly rise and coast to the middle of the rink. He stood head hanging, arms at his sides as the last note of Agape played through the air. That was it. That was all he had left. His legs were shaking. In slow motion, he saw the ice getting closer, vaguely felt his knees crash against it and then he was on all fours. He sputtered, trying to get air, any air. Tears fell from his eyes. He was suffocating. This was the end. Yakov was right. There was a murmur around him, it was growing duller. His ears were ringing. Someone wrapped their arms around him, dragging him along towards the gate. Yuri opened his eyes trying to focus his blurry vision, he saw the faces of people he recognized waiting there for him. He felt the ground beneath him change. There was movement everywhere flashing lights, shouting, talking, someone was right in front of him were they saying something? He felt himself slipping, his arm slid off of whoever was supporting him as he floated to the ground. More shouting.  
"We need some help over here!"

Victor eased himself down next to Yuri. The blond skater's chest shook with the effort of a single breath. Yuuri slid to the floor his back resting on the rink wall. He couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him. "Yuri plisetsky," Victor said softly, "you're alright." Yuri opened his eyes and gazed at Victor. There was a fire there that Victor recognized. The trainer ran over but Victor held up his hand, too much was happening. Victor knew Yuri just needed a minute to catch his breath. For whatever reason Yuri tried to raise his hand, block out the light maybe. Victor caught it closing his fingers tightly around the thin wrist. "I've had my fair share of broken ribs Yurio. A sensation you'll never be used to. Sure it hurts like hell, but the terrifying part is how quickly you're stripped of air, how quickly you become trapped inside your own bones." Victor could see he had gained Yuri's attention. "The key is to take deep breaths." Yuri scoffed, turning his head away. "Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but hear me out. You move the air deep into your stomach, that way you don't have to jar your ribcage." Victor pressed Yuri's hand against his diaphragm. "Like this. In and out, slowly. Draw the air in fully." Yuri mimicked Victor. Eventually, the panic subsided.

Yakov stood stiff as a board. He watched Victor ease yuri off the ledge. Watched him comfort him back into a regular breathing rhythm. Everything he hadn't been there to do or better yet prevent. Yuri laid there until he was able to catch his breath fully. Victor pretended not to notice how Yuri had grabbed tightly to the edge of his coat. A few minutes had passed before Yuri made a move to sit up. Victor and Yuuri on either side helped him. Once he was sitting up, Yuri could see just how many people were gathered around him. "You ok?" Victor asked. Yuri nodded weakly in response and the two pulled him gently to his feet. Yakov stepped forward, Yuri looked up at him his eyes as vulnerable as a child's.  
"I thought…" He trailed off.  
"I know," Yakov said, taking a step toward his student. "Let's go get your score." Yuri looked startled. He started to shake his head but Yakov wasn't having it. "You are a figure skater Yuri. So we're going to sit in the kiss and cry and get your score," with a softer tone he continued, "and then we'll get you some help." Yuri took a step toward him and stumbled. Yakov supported his weight easily, "You're alright Yura, I've got you." He helped Yuri limp to the Kiss and Cry. He sat next to him keeping a hand on his shoulder at all times. Yuri fell forward onto his knees, sweat dripped off his forehead. Yakov rubbed his back eyes flashing nervously over the young skater. The crowd didn't know what to think. Yuri's eyes fluttered. "You alright, Yuri?" Yuri shook his head.  
He mumbled something Yakov couldn't understand. He tightening his grip on Yuri's shoulder.

The speakers roared to life. "Yuri Plisetsky, final score…" Yuri lifted his head, " 74.58." It was easily the lowest score received that season. The crowd clapped regardless. In the commentary, they would gush about perseverance, but that wasn't any consolation for Yuri. He slumped against Yakov, too exhausted to do anything else.  
"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. I thought I could do it." Fresh tears spilled out of Yuri's eyes.  
"Come on let's get those ribs looked at," Yakov said pulling a limp Yuri to his feet. The boy's head lulled to the side. Paramedics met them halfway easing the damaged skater onto a stretcher. Yuri was unresponsive, completely spent. Victor wrapped his arm around Yuuri.  
"He'll be ok right?" Yuuri asked.  
"He'll be just fine… eventually," Victor replied. "We should get you to the hospital too. Your face is paler than I'd like and your eyes are dull." Yurri just nodded and let Victor lead him to the car. They trekked forward, knee deep in rubble and ready to start mending the fragments.


	3. Chapter 3

Yakov sat in the dim room rubbing his eyes. In his lap was a clipboard full of forms he hardly knew how to fill out and a phone exploding with questionary texts and phone calls. Yuri was asleep, hooked to an IV. The boy had thrown a fit when they were putting it in, but at least now he was resting. Yakov glanced at his phone, he was waiting for a call from Yuri's grandfather. Yakov had called on the way to the hospital receiving an earful from the distressed family member. Once Nikolai arrived everything would be ok. He would know what to do for him.

Yuri stirred, shifting in his sleep. His eyes fluttered open, flicking around the room. Yuri's breath quickened, trailing anxiously over his lips. He put a hand on the small tubes running under his nose. "What-" he whispered, trying to sit up.

"Shhhhh, Yura, you're alright," Yakov stood, placing his hands firmly on Yuri's shoulders. Yuri's eyes met his, bursting with confusion.

"How did I get here? When-" he cut off putting a hand on his side. Yakov noticed the small grimace.

"You collapsed after your short program, you were brought here in an ambulance. They took x-rays and it turns out only two of your ribs were fractured. The rest of it is just bruising."

"X-rays… I don't remember any of that," Yuro said, looking at his coach worried.

"You probably won't. They gave you pain medication, the good stuff," Yakov said gesturing to the IV. Yuri didn't look relieved. He swallowed and pulled at the oxygen tubes again.

"When can I leave?" the question was laced with anxiety.

"Probably tomorrow."

"No- I want to leave now. I want to go." Yakov looked at his student perplexed as he tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

"Not so fast! What do you think you're doing?" Yuri took a few shaky breaths. His eyebrow knit together.

"I don't want to be here Yakov. Please just take me home. I want to go," he repeated. Yakov sensed his restlessness had to do with more than a distaste of hospitals.

"It's late Yura. You've been asleep a long time. Let's wait until morning ok? Then we can leave I promise." Yuri was still jittery. He looked like he wanted to cry. "Ok?" Yakov asked again, trying to be extremely gentle. Yuri sunk back against his pillows, every muscle on edge.

"Fine," he said, his prickly exterior shielding him once again.

Yakov settled back into his seat. The silence had become awkward now that Yuri was awake.

"I called your grandfather, he's on his way here now."

"You can go then if my grandpa's on his way." Yuri stared at his hands.

"Why would I leave Yuri?"

"You quit didn't you?" Yuri stared at him, a look of betrayal flashed in his eyes. Yakov sighed, deeply regretting his words.

"Yuri-"

"You can just go. I'll be fine until Grandpa gets here." He looked away from his former coach willing the burning in the back of his throat to stop.

"I'm not going anywhere. I was wrong to leave you at the competition. As far as I'm concerned you are still my student." Yuri let out the breath he had been holding. He snarled,

"Yeah well, maybe I don't want to be your student. Maybe I don't want to be a figure skater anymore."

"What are you talking about. If this is about your score I can assure you this will not be the last time you place in the bottom. The sooner you accept that and move on the better." Yakov crossed his arms over his chest.

"This isn't about the score dammit!" Yuri raised his voice. There was a shuffling on the other side of the room behind the curtain. Yuri lowered his voice to a deadly whisper.

"I messed up ok? I blew it. I don't want to skate anymore. I just want to move on."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say something so stupid." Yakov was growing irritated. "I know the look you get on the ice. No way you would throw that away. I wouldn't let you."

"You wouldn't let me?" Yuri spat.

"No." Yuri's eyes watered. His breathing hitched.

"Don't tell me what to do old man." Yakov saw the way he was trying to contain his emotions. He put his hand on Yuri's shoulder.  
"That's my job."

Yuri scowled at him, a tear escaping his eyes and trailing down his cheek. He whipped it away furiously. "It's ok to be upset Yuri," Yakov said.

"I'm not upset!" Yuri smacked off his hand. "I'm angry!" Yakov was taken aback with the heat that radiated off the teenager in front of him. "I hate this. I hate that I worked myself into the ground just to come in last. I hate that I embarrassed myself in front of the whole world, but most importantly I hate you!" his voice broke, sending new tears cascading down his face. Yuri didn't bother to brush them away as new rolls of anger tore through him. "You walked out on me minutes before I had to perform. I had no one!"

"Yura-" Yakov stood to step closer.

"Shut up!" Yuri pushed him away forcibly enough to cause Yakov to fall back in his chair. "Just. shut. up." Yuri's breathing had become random and sob like. He winced again laying a hand on his side. "I might have ruined my career, but you let me."

Yakov felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. Venom hung in the air. "I can't stay here." Yuri clawed the IV out of his arm and swung his legs to the floor. The first step was the only step he could manage. The sharp pains in his chest returned with enough force to bring him to his knees. The linoleum floor was cold, his arms shook with the effort it took to hold himself up. The door was still miles out of reach. "Dammit!" he muttered through grit teeth.

Yakov walked around the bed swiftly and pulled Yuri up by his armpits. "Let go of me! Leave me alone!" Yuri kicked at him. Yakov held tightly pulling him to his feet.

"What happened was not my fault." Yakov stood in front of him, his tone was strict. " You were careless, irresponsible, reckless. You put your pride above everything and you made a fool of yourself. If you need to blame me to cope with this self-loathing then so be it. I can live with that." Yakov crossed the room and yanked open the door. "You want to run away so badly, run away from the shame you're feeling than be my guest. I never coddled you, Yuri. I won't start now." Yuri's eyes widened, his mouth twitched. "Maybe you were right in a way. Maybe I could have done more. I could have restrained you, chained you down, locked you in a cage. It would have been fitting for the ice tiger of Russia."

They stood like that for a minute, then two. Yuri's heart thumped in his chest. Yakov's hand shook as he gripped the door handle.  
"Yakov…" Yuri struggled to form words. He took a step back, then another. His legs were shaking, his head was spinning. The emotions swirling in his lungs were drowning him. He felt his balance shift, falling to the left he caught the side of the bed as he fell to the floor. He sucked in air in great gulps. It never seemed like enough. "What have I done? I ruined everything. I lost everything." Tears swelled up inside him and were bubbling out faster than ever before. Yakov noticed the shift in the atmosphere immediately. He kneeled down across from Yuri. He wasn't good at this. He wasn't good with children, especially not good with broken ones. Hurting ones. "No," Yuri begged, gripping the bed sheets. Yakov looked at him sadly. Yuri's breaking point had passed long ago. Yakov Picked him up off the floor. Yuri didn't fight him this time. He was done fighting, which scared Yakov the most.

"You haven't lost anything Yuratchka. One competition means nothing. One mistake doesn't mean the end of your career. You're hurting now but tomorrow will be better." Yuri relaxed onto the bed. Taking several deep breaths he managed to pull himself back into reality. If he was embarrassed before now it was a thousand times worse. Having a meltdown in the middle of the night was not something he was proud of.  
He averted his gaze. Yakov could see his discomfort. He pulled a tissue from his pocket.  
"Wipe your face Yura. If you think that was bad you should have seen Victor when he was your age. Tantrums were a weekly event." Yuri dried the tears from his face and tried not to bite the head off the nurse assigned to put hid IV back in.

The room was quiet again, peaceful. Yakov dozed in the chair snoring while Yuri gazed out the window watching the cars pass by, their headlights cutting through the dark night air. The medication made him drowsy and before he knew it he was drifting off into a deep sleep.

 **A.N: Weak ending I know. I just had to get this chapter up or it would continue to eat at me. I'll probably go in and change it later...**


	4. Home

"He's not taking visitors," the nurse said cooley. She sat behind her desk, phone in one hand, coffee mug in the other, and a pile of patient files scattered across the workspace.

"Are you sure? Did you tell him it was us specifically?" Victor asked. She sighed, pushing back a lock of her dark hair.

"Victor Nikiforov and Yu-"

"He knows you're here." She pushed several files off to the side, clearly busy. "I'm sorry but he's not seeing anyone."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we just stopped in for a minute. We're leaving for the airport soon but we want to check in before we go," Yuuri explained. The nurse gave him a sympathetic glance.

"I can't allow you to go in without permission." Yuuri's face fell. The phone rang. After a brief exchange, she riffled through her piles and plucked out a thick binder. Getting to her feet she walked around the counter, "excuse me, I have to meet with one of our doctors." After a few steps she looked back over her shoulder, "if it's any consolation, it's clear you care for him. I'm sure he knows that."

Yuuri looked at the floor. The overhead lights reflected brilliantly off the linoleum. Victor put a hand on his back,

"I'm sure he's fine. You know how Yurio can be. My guess is he's in there watching daytime television with a tray full of jello."

"Yeah," Yuuri stuck his hands in his pockets. "we should go or we'll miss our flight."

The cab ride to the airport was unnaturally silent. Yuuri gazed out the window, nibbling on his thumbnail, his leg was bouncing. Victor put a gloved hand on his knee. Yuuri looked over.

"Something bothering you?" Victor asked. Yuuri shook his head. "Do you have a headache?"

"No."

Victor raised an eyebrow. He lifted his hand, fingertips dancing gently over the butterfly bandages on Yuuri's forehead. Yuuri cringed, pulling Victor's hand away.

"It's not bad," Yuuri explained, downplaying the persistent ache behind his eyes. Victor's eyes narrowed, sweeping over Yuuri's face.

"Yakov will send updates. There's nothing to be worried about."

"I'm not worried," Yuuri said quickly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen for a moment before his gaze settled out the window once more.

"Of course not," Victor murmured.

The flight was uneventful. Victor slept, Yuuri tried to but his headache was worsened by the increased altitude and piercing sound of a baby crying. As the plane began to descend Victor woke up, stretching with a groan. The baby was still upset and voicing it for the entire cabin to hear. "They should really put age requirements on flights like this," victor whispered.

"Tell me about it," Yuuri replied. He could feel the bags under his eyes darkening by the minute.

"You didn't sleep at all did you?" Victor asked.

"I'll sleep when we get home."

 _Home_. The Hasetsu airport wasn't crowded at all. There was no annoying babies, loud businessmen, or antiseptic stink of a hospital. Yuuri took a deep breath. Boy did it feel good to be back. Victor's phone chimed.

"Is that-" Yuuri cut off watching Victor read the notification.

"Yurio is staying with his grandfather for a few days."

"That's… good" Yuuri said.

"Yes. It is." Victor slipped his phone back in his pocket. With a smile, he draped his arm across Yuuri's shoulders. "A dip in the hot spring would feel wonderful right now." Yuuri nodded in agreement.

They had hardly put a foot in the door when Yuuri's mother ambushed them.

"Mom!" Yuuri ducked to avoid her prodding hands. Rapid fire Japanese circled the room. Victor's eyes flicked back and forth, between Yuuri and his mother. The older woman put her hands on her son's face.

"We saw the accident on TV. You fell so hard…" she pushed his hair back, examining the bruised bump and gash extending into his

hairline. "Ohhh," she whined, eyes filling with concern. Yuuri took her hands in his own. He spoke gently in Japanese, doing his best to ease her nerves.

"I'm alright. I went to the hospital and everything," he glanced at his coach, "Victor was very thorough." Victor smiled at recognition of his name. Yuuri's mother turned to him.

"Thank you for looking out for my son." She said to him in English, bending at the waist in display of her gratitude.

"Of course. We look out for each other."

She smiled wide, eyes crinkling at the edges.

"You must be hungry. Come, I'm making your favorite." She took both of their hands, pulling them deeper into the inn.

Yuuri sat in front of a steaming pork cutlet bowl. The atmosphere was relaxed. They had stripped out of their jackets and were lounging In comfortable cotton t-shirts and sweatpants. Victor leaned on the table with his elbow, one leg bent. He held a cup of warm tea, sipping periodically.

"How was Moscow? Did you do any sightseeing?" Yuuri's mother asked, clearing plates from another table.

"We saw a few things... we were going to go to the city after the competition but…" he trailed off looking at his still full bowl.

"They're always next time," Victor said, elbowing him playfully.

"We went all the way there and I didn't even skate. What a waste of time." The door slid open and Mari stepped inside. She waved her hand to dissipate the cloud of smoke that trailed her.

"That Yurio kid ended up competing didn't he?" She asked.

"Oh, that was awful to watch," Yuuri's mother exclaimed. "Sometimes you need to know your limits." She wiped a table down with a furrowed brow.

"My thoughts exactly," Victor said. Mari sat cross-legged across from Yuuri. Her eyes locked on Yuuri's forehead,

"man, you really bit it didn't you? Lemme see." Yuuri pushed back his bangs. Mari's face expressed both disgust and fascination. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. " _Nice_ ," she said.

"You should have seen the other guy," Yuuri mumbled. Yuuri's mother looked down at the table and realized her son had barely touched his dinner.

"You're going to eat that aren't you?" She asked. Yuuri looked down at his bowl, his stomach clenched, his upper lip twitched at the thought of finishing off the bowl.

"We ate on the plane. You know how Yuuri gets around snacks, he's probably still full of all the peanuts he put away." Victor said jumping to the rescue. It was a lie of course. But why make a mother worry.

"I'm just a little tired from all the travel," Yuuri said, apologetically handing his mother the full bowl.

"Why don't you two go unwind in the hot spring?"

Victor and Yuuri let the hot water melt away the day. Victor tipped his head back and closed his eyes Yuuri let his gaze trail over him. The steam caused Victor's hair to curl ever so slightly at the ends. His cheeks were rosy and beads of water ran down his neck and over his collar bones. His chest rose and fell with steady, strong breathing. You could almost see his heart beating rhythmically beneath his skin. When his eyes shifted back up Yuuri noticed Victor staring at him. His eyes were piercing. The color was undefined. Sky blue shifted into emerald green. They were as intense and flowing as the ocean itself. Yuuri's heart skipped. Victor's face relaxed into smirk,

"What?" he asked, pushing a curling lock out of his face. Yuuri felt his face redden, he averted his eyes quickly.

"Nothing." Victor's expression teetered on the edge of being smug. He would have to be blind not to notice the flush creeping over Yuuri's cheekbones. He took a moment to let his eyes wander. The fact that Yuuri' tracked his gaze made it even more satisfying.

"Um- I'm going to dry off. I think the heat is getting to me," Yuuri said, rising out of the water.

"Would you mind coming to my room when you're dressed?" Victor asked. "I want to discuss strategy for the upcoming competitions." His tone ventured into something sinful.

"S-sure." Yuuri exited the hot spring. His mind was spinning. It was _always_ like this with Victor. The constant physical contact, his accent, the way he let his eyes linger. Yuuri had never had a friend act so personally, let alone a coach. He felt so calm with Victor and at the same time, there was something there Yuuri couldn't quite explain. Victor watched him go and believe me, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

* * *

 **A.N~ There is so much running through Yuuri's head. Yurio will be spotlighted in the following chapters. (notice how I used an 'S') I'm not sure how 'action pack' these next sections will be. If you came here for an angsty quickie feel free to stop at the end of ch. 3. I was going to let this story fade away, but there is so much more. So much. It's time to move past physical pain. Past bandages and into embraces. This is what I do. It's one thing to break some ribs, I want to break hearts. It's easy to hurt. It's effortless. It's hard to heal. This will not be soft. It will not be fluffy. It will be real. If that sounds intriguing stick around. Because this is what I do, and I won't disappoint. -I Can Never Tell**


	5. The Blame Game

Yuri perched on the old leather couch. It was a patchwork of discoloration and riddled with tiny cat scratches. In its old age it had gone soft and threatened to inhale whoever sat upon it, sucking them deep into its aged cushions. Keeping his knees drawn up to his chest Yuri took a minute to look around. By this point, his grandfather's house was basically a relic. It carved out a small plot of Russian countryside, twenty-five minutes away from town. It was small and drafty; the floorboards creaked constantly with phantom footprints and there was never anything to do. But it was familiar. It was safe. The smell of freshly baked bread and apples never seemed to be absent from the air and the house cat Lapa would circle your feet happily whenever you arrived. Yuri loved this small house. He loved the way it seemed to wrap you in an embrace the second you stepped through the door.

His phone buzzed angrily in his hand. Headlines, Tweets, comments, text messages, they created an angry twister demanding attention. He scrolled through them, each page worse than the last. One headline made his heart sink into his stomach.

 **'Yuri Plisetsky Intentionally Injures Biggest Competition'**

He clicked on the link a video clip of the accident played in slow motion, seconds before impact Yuri saw himself turn his head. The video froze, it cut to an interview with Michael Headrick, a retired European skater and well-known writer for _Rink Magazine_.  
"It looks like he was so desperate to come out on top he decided to knock the competition down a few pegs," Headrick said with an arrogant tone.

"If the crash was intentional how do you explain the fact that both parties were injured?" The female interviewer asked. Hedrick scoffed,

"Look at the video. Plisetsky clearly looked over his shoulder. You can't possibly claim he didn't see the other guy coming. And how do we know he was really injured in the first place? Because of that pity party, he threw for himself on the ice? Please, we've all seen Yuuri Katsuki skate. There was a real possibility _he'd_ be the one winning in Moscow. Plisetsky clearly used this 'accident' as a way to gain the lead for the season. Katski couldn't skate at all and Plisetsky walks away with what? A couple of bruises?"

Yuri grit his teeth, unable to look away from the screen.

"I guess Yuri Plisetsky finally figured out it takes more that a little talent to compete in the senior division. Too bad he had to compensate by trying to kill off the competition." Yuri clicked off his phone. He held it tightly in his fist doing everything in his power not to chuck it against the wall. His mind was buzzing, _They've got it all wrong_. Nonetheless, doubt began to bubble up inside him.

The staircase creaked loudly. "Yura!" His grandfather said, stepping downstairs wearing heavy winter boots, "Get ready, we're going into town."

"No thanks," Yuri grumbled.

"Shoes. Now." Yuri slid off the couch with a groan.

"Can't I just stay here?" He whined, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You're not going to lay around all day like some lazy bum. I have a few errands to run, it won't take long," his grandfather said pulling on a hat.

"But my side hurts," Yuri complained, desperately trying to avoid going into public.

"You're going to be sore regardless. Now come on, I don't have all day." Nikolai wasn't budging. Yuri sighed dramatically and went to the closet to grab his sneakers.

The car ride was unbearably long. Who knew twenty-five minutes could feel like three years. They sat in silence. Nikolai wasn't much for small talk, but that didn't bother Yuri one bit. The old truck totaled down the dirt roads bouncing on potholes and zipping around corners. Yuri kept looking at his phone. The angels had officially gone to bat. Their efforts to clear Yuri's name had done nothing more than draw attention to the story. The original interview was spreading like wildfire. Skaters were giving their testimony via Twitter and more than one audience member had posted a 'story time'. He was officially news. No one seemed to be able to reach a consensus on the accident. They did however, all make their opinions quite clear.  
"Yuri put that away," Nikolai said, frowning at the sight of his phone. "It's not healthy to have your face in a screen all the time."

"I'm just checking in. A lot's going on in the skater world right now."

"You're suppose to be taking a break from all that," his grandfather said. They arrived in a quaint little town. There were only a few shops but they all had hand painted signs and brightly lit windows.

"You sound like Yakov," yuri grumbled shoving away his phone. "He still hasn't said anything about when I can start practicing again." Yuri's tone was bitter.

"You should be grateful he's willing to coach you at all." Nikolai pulled into a parking space outside a bakery. Yuri felt a blush tint the tops of his ears. His grandpa never shied away from touchy subjects.

The bakery was average. Yuri stood off to the side as Nikolai looked at loaf after loaf of bread. At this rate they wouldn't be done for several days.  
"Grandpa, they're all the same. Can't you just pick one so we can go?" The next stop was the market. Isle after isle only to leave with one carton of milk and a sausage. The morning was rapidly approaching afternoon. "I thought you said this wouldn't take long," Yuri said. His hands were cold and the aching in his side was becoming more than a small annoyance.  
"Patience Yuri. One more stop and we can head back."

"Thank God," Yuri said, following his grandfather down the snow dusted sidewalk. He stared at the ground, hair drifting in front of his eyes. He almost bumped into his grandpa as they stopped unexpectedly outside a flower shop.

The brick building was painted a dark green. The windows were fogged up and empty flower baskets hung by the door. Nikolai walked up to the front door.  
"Why do we need flowers?" Yuri demanded itching to get home.

"I'm stopping in to see a friend," Nikolai responded. A little bell rang as they entered. A wave of head rolled over them. It was like walking into a sauna. Inside the shop was bursting with life. Messy displays of flowers littered the floor and countertops. Red bulbs hung from the ceiling, sprinklers dripped water onto the floor, and the air was so scented it was nauseating.

"Nikolai?!" A voice exclaimed. An older woman peeked her head around a large hydrangea display. She had her gray hair in a long braid down her back. She was wearing gardening gloves and a long floral dress. "It's so wonderful to see you! How have you been?" She effortlessly maneuvered through the maze of vegetation over to them.

"We've been fine, thank you, Albina." Yuri looked at the women strangely. "Albina this is my grandson Yuri, Yuri this is Albina."

"Yuri! It's nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" Albina said sweetly. Nikolai elbowed Yuri sharply.

"Yes- it's nice to meet you too."

"I wasn't expecting you today," Albina said.

"Well, the weather's been so dreary; I thought seeing something beautiful would be good for the soul, and I don't just mean the flowers," Nikolai said, running his fingers over a poppy petal. Albina blushed darker than her roses.

"Oh my," she said, putting a hand over her mouth. Is grandpa flirting? Yuri cringed, resisting the urge to gag. His phone rang in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID. _Victor. What does he want,_ Yuri thought. He made no move to answer the call.

"It is rude to ignore your friends," Nikolai scolded.

"He's not my friend," Yuri shot back. Nikolai glared at him,

"you should really answer your phone. It. Might. Be. Important." This was his cue to leave. Yuri rolled his eyes, _Real subtle, Grandpa._

He walked to the other side of the shop, accepting the call.  
"What do you want?" He barked.

"Yurio! I'm glad you finally answered!" Victor chirped. "Yakov said you haven't been replying to his messages."

"Yakov can piss off. He's the one who's forcing me to take time off."

"He's just worried can you blame him? With everything online-"

"Don't be disgusting. I'm not a child. I don't care what people are saying"

"Well, it would bother me. And Yuuri's locked himself in his room to avoid the rumors." Yuri snarled,

"it's a load of horseshit. Anyone who's skated a day in their lives knows it's nearly impossible to see what's in front of you when you're going that fast." Victor was silent, letting Yuri rant uninterrupted. "So what if I turned my head. Why is everyone so convinced It's my fault? Why do they think I did it on purpose?"

"Did you?" Victor asked.

"Of course not! Why would you- I'd never..." Yuri fumbled. The doubt rose up again, cutting off circulation to his heart. "Whatever. I have nothing to explain to you. Run back to your piggy, old man."

"Yuri, wait." the use of his real name made him waver. "You can talk to me. I might not be the best at dealing with feelings. But I know what it's like dealing with the press," Victor finished.

"Yeah right, You're Russia's prince. They never turned on you, not like this." Yuri paused, suddenly feeling very exposed. "I don't have time for this. Tell Yakov to get off my back."

"You don't have to deal with this alone!" Victor said, desperate to keep Yuri on the phone. There was a second of hesitation before the line went dead.

Yuri hovered in the corner of the cramped flower shop. The heat was suffocating. He walked out the front door. The frigid air bit at his skin but he didn't care. He could at least breathe out here. He leaned against the brick wall, heart pounding. He exhaled watching his breath dance in the air. "What the hell's wrong with me…" he mumbled.  
He crossed his arms over his chest, the cold was settling in his bones. He heard laughter from inside and the deep rumble of his grandfather's voice. Yuri closed his eyes, letting the light snowfall drift onto his hair and eyelashes. It's hard to say how much time had passed but eventually, Nikolai stepped out of the flower shop with a bouquet of orange dahlias. Yuri shivered, gazing off into the distance.

"Come on Yura," Nikolai said, putting an arm around his grandson, "let's go."

The car was warm and the motion of driving was calming. Yuri rested his head against the window. The countryside passed in a blur. Nikolai turned on the radio, Russian folk music played softly. In his pocket, Yuri's phone vibrated, but he didn't have the heart to even see who it was. He didn't think he could handle any more. Not today. Nikolai could feel the melancholy drifting off his grandson. He wasn't blind to what was going on. The war tearing through Yuri was so carefully contained. He was holding his grief deep within his heart, hiding it. The only way to save Yuri from himself was to release his hold on this pain. To set it free.

Nikolai turned down an unmarked side street. Yuri stirred from his inert state,  
"Where are we going?" He asked.

"There's something you need to see," Nikolai said.

"Please Grandpa, I just want to go back to the house. I'm tired," Yuri begged. He needed to be behind closed doors, needed to be able to shut the world out.

"You'll like this I promise."

The car stopped somewhere deep in the woods, on a forgotten path that had not been traveled in years. There was a pond in the middle of a large clearing. The sun had appeared through the clouds and warm light skipped across the pond's frozen surface.  
"Why are we here?" Yuri asked, his voice dripping with fatigue and frustration.

"I thought you might like to stretch your legs," Nikolai replied. He pulled a small duffle bag out of the trunk. From it, he produced two pairs of ice skates.

"My skates? Here?" Yuri looked at the frozen pond confused.  
Nikolai laced up his own skates and stepped out onto the frozen surface, sliding across it effortlessly. "Aren't you coming?" He asked. Yuri looked at the skates in his hands. Frustration boiled in his chest.

"You're just going to hurt your back. Let's go home."

"Passing up an opportunity to be on ice? Yura, that doesn't sound like you." Yuri grumbled from the side of the pond. "Humor an old man will you?" Nikolai smiled, spreading his arms wide. Yuri huffed, pulling the familiar skates into his feet. He tugged the laces so hard, rope burns welted his fingers.

"All day you've dragged me around against my will when all I really wanted to do was lay on the floor and die." Yuri stepped onto the pond, fuming. His skate caught on the uneven surface causing his balance to shift. He flailed his arms involuntarily, Nikolai was there in an instant to steady him.

"Careful, it's not as smooth as you're used to." Yuri glared at him.

"How is anyone supposed to stake on this?" He demanded.

"Your mother learned to skate on this pond." Yuri froze. _Mom_. Nikolai continued, "we lived in a house up the hill from here. She'd drag me down here every morning and be on the ice long after the sun had set."

"Is that why you brought me here?" Yuri asked, staring at the ground.

"I brought you here to skate." Nikolai slid away from him, costing to the other side of the pond. Yuri tentatively moved forward. The surface was rough and no matter what he did he wasn't able to secure his balance. "Take a few laps Yura, you'll get it."

Yuri, slowly, made his way around the pond. The jagged ice was resisting his every move. After his third time around Yuri came to a halt next to his grandfather.  
"There. Are you happy?" Yuri said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you?" Nikolai asked. He took Yuri's arm, pulling him forward towards the middle of the pond. "You need to loosen up, relax a little."

"Wait! Stop!" Yuri clung to his grandfather's arm. "Not too fast, I'm gonna fall."

"Where's the beautiful figure skater I'm used to seeing?" Nikolai let go of Yuri's arm, drifting on his own in lazy circles.

"You make it look so early," Yuri complained.

"You make it look hard," Nikolai countered. "It's not about fancy footwork or perfect steps, it's about going with the ice. Learning the give and take." Yuri gave him a skeptical look, below them the ice creaked, making a sound like a snapping twig. Yuri's eyes widened in panic.

"It's not going to hold!" He pulled at his grandfather's coat sleeve. "Let's go! I'm not about to go for a swim," he snarled.

"It's just settling. This pond is frozen all the way through." Yuri didn't seem to be any more at ease. "Yura, I never get to see you skate. Show me why they call you the ice tiger of Russia." Yuri glanced up at him, he couldn't disappoint his Grandpa, not again. Not like last time.

"I guess I could run through some of my exercises," Yuri mumbled. Nikolai's eyes lit up, spurring Yuri on.

He started with a simple step sequence, stepping one skate over the other twirling in wide circles. Every time his skate collided with a chunk of ice he faltered.

"Don't fight it, Yuri!" Nikolai called, "you can't cut through it, you have to glide with it." Yuri continued on, throwing in a few spins here and there. He could feel the unease flanking off. After a while, he didn't have to think about his balance or the uneven surface. The ice was guiding him. It made his heart flutter. The setting sun danced with him across the glossy surface. Twirling and jumping, flying across the pond as if he had wings; Yuri was one with the ice. He didn't think about the rumors or the accident. He didn't worry about the season or the team. He couldn't feel the pain from his ribs or the ache in his heart. He didn't even notice his grandfather exit the ice. For the first time in weeks, Yuri didn't think about anything at all.

"Beautiful Yuratchka!" Nikolai called. Yuri looked up. The sun had lowered below the horizon leaving only a faint glow behind. Yuri was sweaty and exhausted, but there was a rare smile on his face. "Are you ready to go? It's getting late."

Yuri fell asleep in the car on the way home, listening to cheesy music and surrounded by the overpowering smell of flowers. His mind was blank and not even his phone, which was raging war in his pocket, could wake him.

 **A.N~ This chapter is kind of introducing some of the problems that Yuri is going to face in the future. The little pond moment is super cheesy, but I couldn't pass it up.**


	6. 6

It seemed as though an eternity had passed when Yuri was finally boarding a plane to St. Petersburg. His heart thumped in his chest as he dragged his suitcase behind him. Nikolai had dropped him off giving his grandson a rare and warm hug goodbye. The second they parted ways Yuri's heart rate skyrocketed. The world seemed suddenly so much bigger and oh so intimidating.  
This is dumb. Just get on the goddamn plane and stop freaking out.  
Yuri ran through his checklist; Customs, baggage check, boarding pass- Yuri's breath caught in his throat. There were several TV's on the walls all of them broadcasting the news, his face stared back at him.

 **Olympic Prospect Yuri Plisetsky Under Fire**

Yuri stared at the screen appalled.  
 _Why hasn't this blown over?_  
Suddenly all eyes were on him, the businessman, the tourists, even the snot-nosed toddlers had their eyes trained on him. _Dammit._ Yuri took a shuddering breath and flipped up his hood. Storming over to his gate he took a seat as far from everyone as possible. He pulled his phone out scowling at how badly his hands were shaking.

 _I'm acting like the freaking pork cutlet bowl._

He scrolled through his text messages nothing new and no one to talk to.

 _I wish Grandpa was still here. No. That's stupid. I'm not a kid._

When the gate opened Yuri was the first to board the plane. Tucking himself against the window, Yuri kept his head down, listening to his heart beat wildly in his ears.  
The plane touched down, passengers began to stir. Yuri sat up, his stomach dropped sharply. There was no telling what would be outside those steel doors, A swarm of reporters, a mass of angry angles, or worse all of the above. He had to get out of here as fast as possible. He jumped to his feet pushing past a couple to get to the aisle. His carry-on bag smacked off the backs of the seats as he flew past them. A flight attendant stood in front of the exit.  
"Open the door," Yuri snarled.

"Just a moment sir, if we could have everyone please collect their carry-on and head towards the exit in an orderly fashion-"

"I said open the fucking door!" Yuri shouted, his breath was coming in gasps.

"Sir calm down, the doors will open momentarily," the flight attendant said, a fake smile plastered to her frustrated face. Yuri felt the walls closing in on him like the plane itself was crunching like a tin can. He gripped the seat back next to him tightly. He didn't hear the door open or the rustling of passengers behind him.

"Move it, kid! We don't have all day," an angry voice said behind him, But Yuri's legs were rooted to the floor, He didn't want to be in the public eye; all he wanted was to curl up on his grandfather's shabby leather couch and smell those disgustingly sweet flowers. "Let's go!" He was shoved sharply from behind. Yuri's stomach ached, hours of anxiety had worn on him.

"Are you alright? Maybe you should take a seat," the flight attendant said, reaching for Yuri's shoulder. He was breathing fast, too fast.

 _I have to get out of here._

"Don't touch me hag," Yuri spat taking off out of the plane.

Yuri sprinted through the airport, much to the dismay of security.  
"Yuri!" He could hear the squeals of fangirls as he passed them. Cameras flashed and more than one journalist approached him questions buzzing around him like wasps. He just kept running, out of the doors and into a taxi.

"Drive," he demanded.

He fumbled with the key to Lilia's front door. Stepping inside he slammed the door shut on the world, double checking the lock.  
"Yuri is that you?" Lilia's voice carried around the corner.

"Da!" yuri said, kicking off his shoes. His stomach began to settle. He stepped into the office, Lilia was bent over her desk, glasses balanced on the tip of her nose. Yuri leaned against the door frame. Lilia turned to face him. Looking him up and down with narrowed eyes she rose out of her large leather chair. She walked over to him, adjusting her cardigan,

"Have you been keeping up with your stretches?"

"Of course," Yuri said, rolling his eyes. He kept his hands in his pockets.

"Good," Lilia said, her tone was gentler. She pushed a strand of Yuri's hair out of his face forcing him to make eye contact with her. "I'm glad you made it home safe."  
Yuri tusked. Crossing his arms over his chest, he averted his eyes.

"Good to be back," he mumbled. Lilia smiled, well at least for her it was a smile. She took off her reading glasses and walked towards the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? I could have something delivered," Lilia said, putting the kettle on the stove.

"I'm fine." _Lilia never lets me eat out. Something's up._ "I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Sit down, Yuri." Yuri sent her a strange look. Lilia wasn't one for small talk it was probably how they all were able to survive under the same roof. Yuri plopped down at the kitchen table resting his head on his arm. After a few minutes, a steaming mug of tea was placed in front of him. Lilia sat across from him bobbing her tea bag. Yuri trailed his finger over the rim of the cup. Lilia sat quietly waiting for him to speak. Yuri stubbornly stayed silent. "It would be foolish to let the press get to you."

"I don't want to talk about it," Yuri groaned.

"They will say things that have no merit. Regardless you must remain focused and-"

"Ughhhh. Enough already," Yuri snapped. "I'm tired and covered in airport scum." Yuri stood quickly, knocking over his chair.

"Yuri, I'm only saying this because I care about you and your career. I only want what's best for you."

"If you really cared you wouldn't have sent me away to deal with it alone," Yuri snarled, fists closed at his sides. He stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, locking the door behind him. He flopped down on his bed, listening to the sounds of traffic outside.

An hour passed, then two. Yuri didn't even bother changing his clothes. Eventually, the world faded away. His breath came in steady waves, chest rising and falling like the tide. His dreams transformed, swirling into a black abyss of fear.

He was skating, moving across the ice dangerously. Everything was shifting quickly, his stomach churned with unease. He wasn't in control. Something was blocking his path. Katsudon. He could see it coming but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Impact. He laid on the ice unable to move, listening to Victor scream for Yuuri to breathe. Turning his head he was met with Yuuri's wide unblinking eyes. The eyes of a corpse. Victor cursed at him, the crowd reached out to tear him apart and all he could do was lay there.

Yuri cried out sitting up in bed. He was tangled in the sheets and sweating. He was breathing like he'd just gone for a run, fear clawed at his heart.

 _It was a dream I'm ok. It was a dream. I'm ok. I'm ok._

He was shaking. Unable to sit any longer he got to his feet pacing the room. It was late, too late to go downstairs.  
 _Calm down. It was only a nightmare. It wasn't real._

Except for in a way it was. Everything was swirling in his head, the headlines, the accident, the anxiety. He took long, deep breaths trying to steady his heart. He couldn't shake the unease. He pulled out his phone and Without thinking he pressed the call button.

"Yurio?" Victor's confused answered. "What are you doing up?" Yuri's breath hitched at the sound of his voice.

"Can you talk?" Yuri asked. His voice trembled along with the rest of him.

"What happened?" Victor asked. He didn't like the sound of Yuri's voice.

"I-I. Are you alone?" Yuri asked. There was a pause. Yuri's legs wobbling beneath him.

"...Yes. Yurio what's going on? Is something wrong? Why aren't you asleep?"

"I can't sleep. I'm having nightmares," Yuri said.

 _I sound so pathetic._

"About the accident?" Victor asked. Yuri closed his eyes tightly.

"This was a stupid idea. Sorry for bothering you." Yuri was going to hang up, feeling childish for getting worked up over a dream.

"Don't go. Talk to me." Yuri paused trying to find the words.

"I was on the news today," Yuri said weakly.

"I heard." Victor paused. "They're saying some horrible things, but that doesn't make them true."

"What if they are, though?" Yuri's voice wavered. "I should have seen it coming. I should have stopped." Yuri's stomach was doing backflips. "I keep seeing it over and over in my head. Every time I close my eyes we crash all over again." Victor was silent. Yuri took a gasping breath. "Why didn't I see him! I should have, I turned my head!" His lungs contracted painfully. "I could have- he could have-" Gasping for air Yuri could hardly get out any words at all. The familiar feeling of dread washed over him The room was shrinking, boxing him in.

"Yuri," Victor said.

"It's happening again."

"What's happening?"

"My chest, I can't breathe. It's like on the plane. I can't-" Yuri took a shuddering breath, "what's wrong with me?" He pulled at his hair, sinking to the floor.

"You're alright. Take a deep breath," Victor said keeping his tone soothing.

"I didn't mean to do it," Yuri's voice broke. "I didn't want to hurt him." his eyes watered.

"I know Yura. It's ok." Victor was holding the phone close to his ear.

"I messed up everything!" Yuri sobbed. "My name is plastered on every news site, recruiters won't go near me…"

"Shhhh, Yuri just breathe. Everything will be alright."

"No, it won't! Don't you get it?" Yuri pulled his knees to his chest. "The things they're saying…"

"None of it's true. You know it. I know it. Yuuri knows it."

"I can't live like this!" Yuri wailed. His chest was burning, his heart was beating frantically.

"Don't say that. You will move past this do you understand me?" Victor was beyond serious. Yuri struggled to catch his breath, lights swarmed in front of his eyes. "Yurio you need to slow down. You're breathing is beginning to scare me."

"Stop! Shut up! Stop being nice to me! I almost killed him! You should hate me!" He pulled at his shirt, the fabric was suffocating. "I could have killed him."

"This is not your fault. Yuuri is just fine. Try and relax."  
Victor listened for a reply. The only thing he heard was the sound of Yuri choking for air. "Do you remember how I showed you to breath when you hurt your ribs?"

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Breathe in fully, hold, exhale." Yuri did. It took a few minutes but he wasn't feeling light headed anymore. He was still shaking and holding to the phone for dear life. "That's better," Victor said, satisfied with the sound of his steady breathing. "Are you ok?"

"I don't know."

"You should try and sleep. Yuuri is always exhausted after a panic attack."

 _Panic attack?_

"I don't want to sleep." Yuri was avoiding closing his eyes, avoiding the nightmares.

"I know… But you need to. Don't you practice with Yakov in the morning?" Victor asked. "You'll be ok. I promise. Everything will work out." Yuri pulled himself onto the bed, wrapping himself in the blankets. "Get some rest Yurio."

"Don't go! Please, Victor. Just a little longer." Yuri's voice was thick with emotion. Victor stayed on, they didn't have to talk. Just having Victor on the phone made Yuri feel less alone, made him feel safe enough to close his eyes. Yuri drifted off. Only after Victor was sure he was asleep did he end the call.

Victor held the phone contemplating leaving Yakov a message. He didn't want to betray Yuri's trust, yet at the same time, he knew Yuri couldn't be left alone. His heart ached for the young skater. There was nothing comparable to having the world turn on you. Nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Yuuri knocked once on Victor's door. There was a muffled, "come in." Yuuri stepped inside. The room wasn't particularly neat. The bed was made sloppily, an open suitcase spilled onto the floor, and the closet door was ajar. Victor was sitting on one of his sofas pondering over a notebook with a pen twirling in his fingers. Macachin spread herself across Victor's outstretched leg; her tail thumped happily as Yuuri stepped inside. "Good morning Yuuri!" Victor chirped, "did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Yuuri said. "I was planning to go for a run." Victor nodded, not quite listening to what Yuuri had said.

"So I was thinking for the next competition rearranging the jump sequence. You could have a higher score with the added difficut-" Victor was cut off when Macachin began to whine. "I'll be back in a second. Make yourself comfortable." Victor left to take out the dog. Yuuri flopped onto the bed, arms extended. The blankets were bunched up in places but it was soft and the whole room smelled like Victor's cologne. Yuuri closed his eyes, it seemed no matter how much sleep he got, he couldn't shake this constant fatigue. He didn't hear Victor slip back into the room, he only took notice of his presence as Victor sat on the bed next to him.

"Tired Yuuri?"

"No," Yuuri mumbled, making no attempt to sit up. "I was going to go for a run, maybe to the Ice House to practice," Yuuri said. Victor hummed his disapproval.

"Don't you think it would be better to rest today?" Yuuri exhaled sharply,

"I have been resting. _All I do is rest_. I need to practice Victor."

"You need to let your body recover. Besides, why go for a run when we can spend the day going over choreography?" Victor relaxed back on his elbow. Yuuri stared at the ceiling.

"You're my coach aren't you? Shouldn't you be trying to coach me?" Yuuri's chest was filled with a sharp frustration.

"I am your coach, so shouldn't you be listening to me?" Victor countered. There was a ping from somewhere under the blankets. Yuuri reached under them and pulled out Victor's phone. He handed it over, taking notice to the Russian text that flashed across the screen. Victor read the text, hair falling over his face as he typed out a reply.

"Is everything ok?" Yuuri asked. Victor nodded ever so slightly as he pressed send.

"Just wishing Yurio luck on his first day back from his break." Yuuri held back a scoff. _Break._ Like it was some kind of tropical vacation. Yuuri had heard Victor up late into the night speaking frantic Russian over the phone. He could see the way he trailed his eyes over Yuuri's head as if it would split open at any moment. He needed to get back on the ice. He needed it. Victor laid down next to him, drawing his attention away from the swirling anxiety in his stomach. "So my little pig what will it be? Quad toe loop first or the combination?"

Across the world, Yuri's phone was shoved roughly in his bag. He ignored the text from Victor, the kind words made him want to gag. He pulled on a purple quarter-zip athletic long-sleeve. His heart thumped in his chest as he wore his hair in a tight braid out of his face. Looking in the mirror it was if he could finally recognize his reflection. Yuri just about jumped out of his skin when a loud pounding sounded at his door. "Yuri, I'm leaving in ten with or without you!" Yakov's voice cut through the air like a bullet.

The house was quiet in the mornings, well, aside from Yakov thumping strides on the wood floors and Lilia's high heeled boots. Yuri took one last look at the champion figure skater in front of him. The winner of the junior division, the future gold medalist. The boy with the eyes of a soldier. Grabbing his wallet and house keys Yuri shuffled down to the kitchen. Yakov was packing lesson notes into his binder. Yuri swung himself into one of the wooden chairs at the table and began munching on dry cereal. Yakov poured coffee into a travel mug, over his shoulder he muttered, "If you want to win the Grand Prix Final you're going to need better eating habits." Yuri rolled his eyes, flicking a Cheerio onto the floor where his cat sniffed it tentatively.

"Are you gonna make breakfast?" he asked gruffly. They both knew Yakov couldn't cook an egg if his life depended on it. Lilia usually left them something but today she had an early class at the studio. The butterflies in his stomach had intensified to a swarm of birds.

"You'll have to work hard this week to get back in shape." Yuri didn't even look up. "Are you ready?" Yuri got to his feet, trudging towards the front door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Yakov asked, motioning to Yuri's skate bag in the corner. Yuri made a move to pick it up but Yakov's grip stopped him. "You'll get there Yura. I wouldn't have made you take time off if I thought for a second it would hinder your chances for gold. There's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about? Whatever," Yuri muttered swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Let's just get this over with already."

The car was silent. Not the comfortable silence that settled around family, no, this was the kind of lack of sound that hung in the air like a smothering locked his gaze out the window, letting the buildings swirl past in an indistinguishable smear of color. He could tell without looking they were getting close, he could feel it.

The building came into view and all at once Yuri's stomach settled. He was back. _Finally._ He jumped out of the car the second it came to a stop and flung himself through the set of glass doors. Everything was exactly how he'd left it. The air was chilled and refreshing, his locker was untouched, and his spare phone charger was still plugged into the corner where he often buckled down in between practices. Settling into the familiar atmosphere Yuri pulled out his skates. He couldn't get them on fast enough- it was calling to him. The ice pulsed beneath his feet carrying him in large loops around the rink. He stretched out his arms and let himself glide across the smooth surface. He let himself fly. This was where he belonged. There was no question. Yakov let him warm up uninterrupted. Yuri had attracted a small crowd. The team, who had early gym practice, lined up along the sidelines. Mila had her phone out filming little clips for social media.

"He looks pretty good. You can't even tell he was injured," she mused, leaning with crossed arms on the ledge. Yakov grunted, studying Yuri's movements closely for signs of pain or discomfort. After an infinity of leisurely loops, Yuri came to a screeching halt in front of them. Ice skidded up into the air catching the fluorescent light and fluttering like shards of glass. Yuri's eyes were narrowed and dangerous. There was something about them, a glimmer of pure and unrestrained excitement, that made this gaze his very own.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded. Yakov waved him off, moving to the open gate.

The first drills were accomplished with ease. As the practice progressed Yuri could feel the fatigue wearing on him. His legs burned and sweat dripped off his forehead. Yakov still hadn't let him attempt any quads, insisting that the step sequence in his program needed the most work. When eventually Yakov asked for the jump sequence Yuri could hardly pull himself into the air. First, it was over rotated. Then he touched down with a hand, fell to a knee, then his side. He was sloppy. Unacceptable.

"Again! This time with a bit of effort please!" Yakov shouted from the middle of the ice. His voice caused Yuri to grit his teeth. ' _You can't fight it Yura, glide with it…'_

Again? fine. Yuri would attempt as many times as necessary because that's what it took to be a champion.

"Good Yurachka!" Yakov called across the rink. Yuri stood, panting like a dog, but standing nonetheless. Yakov slid over to him, "end on that, we'll pick up again tomorrow."

"I can do it again."

"Yuri-"

"It wasn't perfect Yakov! I can make it Perfect."

Yuri pushed himself across the rink.

 _Leg back, eyes look over the shoulder, push off._

He was airborne for only a second. Coming down the edge of his skate caught, sending him tumbling onto his side. He slid across the ice and into the wall. He braced himself for the pain, but none came.

"Yuri that's it! You're done!" Yakov skated over to him. Yuri pulled himself up, his heart sped in his chest. "Are you hur-"

"I'm fine!" Yuri snapped. He felt himself shaking.

"Yuri-" Yakov started, but Yuri skated past him and off the ice.

He locked himself in the locker room. He began pacing back and forth.

 _I'm fine._

He was sore but he wasn't hurt. Yuri's mind swirled.

 _I could have injured myself all over again._

Through the faintest memory, all the air was ripped from his chest. Not being able to breathe, now that was terrifying. Yuri never wanted to experience that ever again. Slowly it dawned on him, the fact that every time he attempted a jump, he risked breaking his ribs, his neck, he risked his life, and the lives of those sharing the ice with him. He sat on the bench rubbing his calf absentmindedly, the slight irritation of the scab helped him keep a hold on reality. His phone vibrated in his locker. Getting up to check it he noticed all of the comments and notifications from Instagram. Mila's thirty-second video of him warming up. A text message stood out.

' **You looked good out there Yura.'**

Otabek. Yuri read the six-word message over again. Beka hardly ever texted during the week, and almost never during the day. As Yuri stared at the message Otabek's typing bubble appeared.

' **How was the rest of practice? Does it feel good to be back on the ice?'**

Yuri frowned, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard searching for a response.

' **Practice was fine.'**

And it had been fine. The only thing Yuri wasn't sure about was if _he_ was fine. He wanted to tell Beka about his nerves and about his new fear of falling. How could he admit to that kind of weakness? He was a figure skater! Falling was unavoidable. To put his conflict into words… impossible. Beka's typing bubble appeared again, but this time it vanished just as quickly. Yuri stared at the 'read at 8:23' notification for a minute, then two. He flung his phone down on the bench.

 _God. Why can't I just be nice? He was just asking about my practice._

Before he could think of something to say to Beka another text from Victor appeared on the screen. It was just a teary faced emoji with a ton of hearts and smiles. Attached was a link to the video Mila posted. Yuri rolled his eyes, flipping back to his conversation with Beka; he typed out a response before he had a chance to think about it.

' **Ok so maybe it wasn't fine. Maybe I'm not fine. It feels good to be back but… IDK.'**

The text was read immediately. Yuri could imagine Beka's eyes trailing over the message. Would he laugh? Would he think he was weak? A failure? A child? Before Otabek had a chance to respond Yuri shoved his phone back in the locker.

 _Whatever. I don't care what he thinks._

But of course, that wasn't true. Yuri stepped out of the locker room and back towards the ice. He wouldn't attempt any jumps, but there was nothing wrong with gliding.

 **I'm struggling through a bit of writer's block. Requests for this story are still open (they would really help me fill in some plot holes I have coming up haha). I hope to write more next weekend (AP testing will be over by then- thank God). Let me know that you think! As always, I can never tell**


	8. Chapter 8

An hour on the ice, an hour in the dance studio, an hour to stretch, lunch. After lunch, he had to work on his online classes. After his classes, he had team practice and spent the rest of the afternoon watching Mila and Georgie work through their programs. His favorite thing was in after team practice when he had a few hours to get something to eat, walk around town, facetime Beka, or find somewhere to hide out all by himself. Today he wasn't feeling like going into town so he grabbed a protein bar from his locker and hunkered down in his favorite hiding place.

There was a corner behind the bleachers that anyone could find if they were looking for it. The beautiful part was that no one ever was. Yuri sat with his feet propped up, jacket draped over his lap, and his headphones blasting whatever song suited his mood. He hadn't checked his phone yet, afraid that if he did he would be losing the only friend he'd ever had. Beka. Yuri picked up his phone,

 _If it's over I might as well know now._

There was one message. It wasn't long, it wasn't extravagant, it was, however, exactly right.

' **Call me'**

Yuri stared at the text message. It wasn't like this was the first time Otabek had asked him to call. He preferred to see Yuri's face when they talked, he said it was so he could read more on his face than the words he was saying. Whatever that meant. Yuri thought about it for a long time.

Do I really want to talk about it? If I call he's going to ask questions…

Eventually, he pressed the facetime icon next to Beka's face.

 _Maybe he won't answer._

But of course, he did.

"Hello Yuri," Otabek said, leaving a crowded table and moving into his bedroom.

"You're having dinner? Sorry I should have checked what time it would be for you."

"It's fine. We were just finishing up. How are you?"

 _There it was._

Yuri shrugged, not making eye contact,

"I guess I've been better." Otabek's eyes flickered over him.

"It the press still harping on you?"

"Da, it's getting really annoying." Yuri tried to keep his voice neutral. "But it's not like it means anything. They'll lose interest eventually."

 _I hope._

"Right-" Otabek waited for Yuri to spill the secrets he was hiding just behind his eyes. The Russian punk wasn't that difficult to read if you knew where to look. Yuri didn't say anything. "In Kazakhstan, the news has been pretty limited. I didn't even know you were cleared to skate until I saw Mila's video."

"I should have texted you…"

"I understand. I'm just glad you're alright. You gave everyone a scare, that was a nasty fall." Beka prompted Yuri gently, hoping he could get him to open up without setting off the teenager's quick temper. Yuri shrugged.

"Why? It's not like I'm the one who cracked their head open."

 _There it is,_ Otabek thought smugly.

"How is Katsuki?"

"How should I know," Yuri said drily. Otabek's eyes narrowed,

"You haven't talked to him or Victor since Moscow?" Yuri pulled his knees to his chest feeling an unwelcome ping of guilt added to the pile.

"I've talked to Victor," he all but whispered. "The katsudon wouldn't want to talk to me anyway. Not after what I did." Otabek remained silent, talking in the pained expression that fell over Yuri's features.

"You don't know that. It might be good to have a conversation with him. He won't blame you, Yuri."

"Yeah well, what makes you think I want to talk to him anyway!" Yuri snapped. Once he raised his voice it was hard to stop. "That stupid pig," Yuri's voice broke ever so slightly, "if he hadn't been in the way none of this would have happened. Before Moscow, I could feel the gold around my neck and now I can't even land a freaking toe loop cleanly." Yuri cut himself off before any more emotion could come through. "Everyone is on his side anyway so what's the point? Even if I talk to him it wouldn't change anything. I'm still just the brat that tried to cheat to get first place." Yuri looked at his feet, feeling the weight on his chest grow heavier by the second.

"Yura-" Beka searched for the right words. "Yuri look at me," he demanded. Yuri's eyes flicked over at his phone giving his friend the cold expression he wore a lot these days. "The accident wasn't your fault."

"You don't know that." Yuri's eyes watered.

 _I could have killed the Katsudon._

Yuri pushed a loose piece of hair away from his face. "I wanted him gone. I wanted Victor to come back to Russia to train me."

 _I wanted him dead. No. Maybe?_

"Stop that. We both know that's twfta." Yuri almost smirked at the rarely used Kazha swear word. "You'd never do something like that."

"But I did do it Beka," Yuri said, pushing a hand through his hair. "I did it." He seemed to lose himself as the words left his mouth. Otabek watched as Yuri's eyes dulled until he was looking at nothing at all.

 _He should hate me. Katsudon, Victor, everyone. If I had just been more careful. If I had just…_

"Are you with me?" Beka's voice recaptured Yuri's attention. "Don't disappear on me like that," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sorry." Yuri continued to avoid eye contact. "I should go. Yakov will want me on the ice soon."

"Don't beat yourself up alright? Text me when you get home." Yuri took one last look at the only person in the world he could trust with himself.

"Poka." The video call ended.

 _I thought I would feel better. Doesn't matter I guess._

Yuri pulled himself out of his hiding spot just before Yakov came thundering out of his office.

"Yuri! Why aren't you warmed up? What have you been doing? I don't have time for you to mess around!" Yakov's voice shook the ceiling lights. Yuri rolled his eyes, plopping onto a bench to pull his skates on. His feet were already getting ripped up an impressive amount of blisters lined his heels and the top of his toes. Standing and coaxing his already sore body onto the ice, Yuri felt the chill of the air in his bones. Spinning, twirling, jumping, the world around him became a blurry smear in front of his eyes. His mind wondered, nowhere in particular, just away from him.

"Yuri! What was that? I asked for the spin sequence, not the step sequence!" Yuri huffed as he pushed himself into a camel spin, struggling to keep his leg straight. "Sloppy! You'll be spinning until I see a straight leg!" Yuri bit his tongue coaxing his shaking leg higher and his back flatter.

Yakov wasn't kidding about the never ending spins. By the time Yuri had finally 'gotten it right' his stomach was more than a little woozy. He panted with his hands on his knees, he could feel cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck and his forehead. Yakov grunted signaling the end of the lesson. Yuri slid over to the side and bent slowly to put on his skate guards. The motion made him gag and he put a hand to his mouth to calm his stomach. It wasn't like him to be sick after an intense practice. Then again, it also wasn't like him to take an extended period of time off either. He lowered himself onto the bench willing nausea away unsuccessfully. He sat stiff as a board breathing shallowly. It was already past seven, the only skaters left were the one's training for the GPF. Mila walked past, chatting loudly with another skater who was on the other side of the rink. Her voice seemed to split the ice. She stopped in front of Yuri, hand on her hip.

 _Oh great._

"You look tired Kitten," she purred, sliding onto the bench next to him. Yuri grit his teeth.

"What do you want hag?"

"Georgie and I were going to dinner, wanna tag along?" Mila's leg bounded wildly causing the bench to shake.

"Not interested," Yuri spat.

"Oh come on, Georgie just got dumped. You know how generous he gets when he's sad. Dinner and drinks are on him." Mila wiggled some more in her seat.

"Knock it off you're like a freaking earthquake," Yuri screwed his eyes shut, his hand moved to his stomach. Mila giggled at him,

"Stomach a little uneasy Tiger?" Yuri glared at her. "You know what would help? A plateful of steaming meat and potatoes smoked salmon and of course," she wiggled her eyebrows at Yuri's deepening shade of green, "pickle shots." Yuri's stomach lurched he shot up and threw himself into the men's room.

He fell onto his knees in front of the toilet trying to ignore how filthy it was. He took deep breaths doing everything in his power to keep his lunch down. He was unsuccessful. He hovered on shaky arms, choking on stomach acid with his knees on a piss splattered floor. Once the last bit of chocolate protein bar left his mouth, he rose to his feet. Rinsing his mouth in the sink, Yuri looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dull and his cheeks were rosy. He whipped the spit off his lip with a snarl.

 _Pathetic._

Mila ambushed him the second he stepped out of the bathroom. She forced a bottle of water into his hands. He walked past her, hand closing around the plastic bottle just enough to prevent it from falling to the floor. She trailed him as he slouched back on the hard, plastic bench. Mila sat next to him she dropped her usual facade, placing a hand on Yuri's shoulder. He shook it off, reaching down with a shaky hand he pulled on one of his laces in a weak attempt to pull off his skates. He leaned over his knees not bothering to push the hair from his eyes. Yuri pulled the skate slowly working it off his heel. Mila watched with unusual restraint until it was too much for her to remain silent.

"Yakov really did a number on you today." Yuri hummed, not looking up at her. He continued to struggle with pulling his foot out of his skate. Mila huffed and pulled Yuri's foot onto her lap. She pulled the skate off with ease, ignoring the grumbling teenager sitting next to her. Her eyes latched onto the blood stains on Yuri's socks. "Детские…" Mila trailed off, pulling the sock off of Yuri's blistered foot. She

Ran her fingers over his torn skin, examining the extent of the damage.

"That hurts- Leave it alone," Yuri snapped, pulling his feet off her lap and setting them on the floor.

"You're going to need some dinner, Yura. Come out with us, you can get some food back in you."

"I'm not hungry." Yuri shivered and pulled his hood over his head. Mila bit her lip,

"You need to eat." Yuri didn't respond. He picked at his fingernails. "Yuri-"

"I'll pass." Yuri leaned against the wall, pushing his icy hands in his pockets.

"Alright." Mila leaned back as well, settling into her seat. A few minutes passed, they sat and watched the Zamboni slowly roll over the ice. Yuri tapped Mila in the side with his foot.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" He asked her. Mila shrugged,

"Not really." She glanced over to see Yuri shiver again. "You want a ride home?"

"I'm leaving with Yakov," Yuri mumbled, pushing himself closer to the wall.

"Who knows when he'll be done. Come on, let me drop you off." Yuri let Mila drag him to his feet and out to her car. She twirled her keys in her hands as they walked down through the dark parking lot. Mila's car was a flashy compact, it had a sticker in the back window that said, _Hockey Hottie_. When she turned the key in the ignition music blasted from the speakers. She didn't turn it down as she drove.

The second Yuri stepped inside the house he collapsed on the living room couch.

His cat sniffed his fingertips he didn't have the energy to give her any attention.

 _I'll make it up to her later._

He let his eyes close, settling into the ache that settled over his entire body. An hour or two passed and Yuri stirred to the sound of the front door opening. He didn't have the energy to lift his head so instead, he forged sleep. He could hear the clicking of Lilia's heels on the floor as she approached. He could sense her stop in front of the couch.

"Are you awake Yuri?" She brushed the hair off his forehead. Yuri kept his breathing steady. "Are you going to sleep on the couch then?" She prodded his shoulder. He remained silent. "Alright then," she sighed, straightening up and the sound of her boots faded up the stairs.

Yuri slipped into a dream that filled him with unease. He was attempting the Agape routine but every time his feet hit the ice it cracked beneath him threatening shatter. No matter what he did it didn't stop the cracks from forming. He couldn't stop and everything was moving so quickly he couldn't see. His stomach knotted up, he couldn't breathe. No. Please. The ice gave out beneath his feet he fell waist deep into a sharp darkness. Help me! Help me! He pleaded the shards dug into his sides. They burned his skin and turned his bones to ash.

"-wake up!" "Yuri!" Yuri's eyes shot open. He struggled to gather his surroundings. There were strong hands restraining him, pinning him to the back of the couch.

"Let go! Get off!" Yuri both pushed the hands away from him and clung to them. He was coated in sweat and his body felt like it was on fire.

"Yuri stop, look at where you are," Yakov's voice reached through the haze. Yuri stared wide eyed.

 _It burns._

"I- where?" Yuri stammered pulling himself from the constraints of the nightmare. He suddenly flushed with embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" Yakov asked gruffly.

"Yes," Yuri whispered. He cleared his throat. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past one."

"I-I have to take a shower." Yuri pushed himself off of the couch, his clothes were stuck to his frame. He had the desire to crawl out of his own skin. He stumbled out of the living room, he could feel Yakov's eyes on his back.

"Yuri, it's late."

"I'll sleep after I'm clean," Yuri mumbled disappearing up the stairs. He was shaking. All over his muscles trembled. He couldn't feel his phone in his pocket, who would he want to talk to anyway. Victor? Beka? No.

 _No one's going to understand. Hell, not even me._

The ice cold shower water helped him shake the stirring feelings in his stomach. He sat on the tile and let the water run over him. The frigid temperature kept him awake, a fact he was grateful for.

 **Well, let me know what you think :) Fell free to PM me, I love to hear suggestions and bounce around ideas! Updating on Fridays**


	9. Chapter 9

"Has he talked to you?" Yakov asked into the phone, keeping his voice low.

"Yurio? No, not really," Victor replied, watching Yuuri run stairs in front of the temple. "But if you're calling me something must have happened." Victor was silently hoping his ex-coach just wanted to catch up.

"He's… having nightmares," Yakov seemed to choke on the words as if they were too foreign for his tongue.

"So he did go to you about them, good." There was a pause over the line.

"You knew about this?" Yakov asked his voice strangled. Victor immediately realized his mistake. "Viyta! He's distracted, sloppy, he's not eating and now he's waking me up in the middle of the night screaming. How could you not tell me when he called you?" Yakov thundered. Victor winced and held his tongue. The line stayed quiet. "I can hear you breathing, Victor." Victor chuckled over the line.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Good luck! You can always send Yurio to stay with us!" Victor ended the call. Putting a hand to his forehead he continued to watch Yuuri trot up and down the stairs.

Yakov shook the phone in his hands. Behind him the sound of the front door opening made him turn. Yuri paused, _I've been caught_.

"Where are you going? We have to leave in 15 minutes."

"I texted Mila, she's picking me up. We're grabbing coffee before practice." With that Yuri slammed the door behind him. Yakov rubbed his temples. He wasn't good with children. He and Lilia hadn't even considered having kids and now they were raising one. Yakov gathered his belongings and shuffled out to his car.

The rink was bursting with people because it was a weekend there were numerous lessons taking place at the same time. Preschoolers were on one end and the junior skaters were on the other. Parents and coaches buzzed around by the benches and vending machines. Without anything to dull the noise, the whole establishment was echoing with a thousand voices. Yakov watched for a moment as the junior skaters were hooked into the harness to practice their triple jumps. They were pulled up as they jumped, giving them the time necessary to complete three full rotations. Only a few years ago Yakov was wrestling Yuri into the same harness. The twelve-year-old had insisted he didn't need it, a claim that ended up spraining his wrist on a failed attempt.

Yakov glanced at his wrist watch, Yuri and Mila didn't have to be there for another forty minutes. _There's no harm in coffee,_ Yakov thought walking into his office. He took a seat on his large leather chair. Pulling out his binder he organized his lesson notes for the day. The clock on the back wall clicked steadily, Yakov glanced at it for a third time in the span of five minutes before he pushed his notepad away in defeat. He reached into his drawer and pulled out the remote to the TV mounted on his wall. He scanned the local and sport's news for mentions of Yuri. There wasn't anything new, hopefully, that indicated the story had finally died. The claims and accusations would spring up again during the next competition- which was only a week away. Yakov rubbed the back of his neck, the accident had shaken the whole skating community. Not only were the two already popular skaters injured before the biggest competition of the year but the two were rivals. Yuri had the majority of support from Russia but that didn't prevent the minority from voicing themselves online. There had been a backlash on the entirety of the establishment and the coaching. The rink's lawyers had _suggested_ Yakov send Yuri to another training facility. Not only that, Yakov had to fight to keep several of his assistant coaches from looking for other employment. None of the staff blamed Yuri; they knew him well enough to know that a warm-up injury wasn't his style. If he had intended harm on another skater it would be calculated and undeniable. They liked Yuri, but that didn't mean they wanted their own careers to sink with his.

Yuri's career was not over. Yakov was sure of it. The injury hadn't impaired his skating ability- physically anyway. Besides that, Yuri was still a local and international celebrity. As Mila had pointed out (thankfully not in front of Yuri) any press is good press. The wall clock indicated that Yuri and Mila should be arriving any minute. Yakov rose from his chair and headed out the door. He smiled at the small children that waved at him on their way out. The smile was forced but Lilia said it reassured the parents who paid hundreds of dollars a month for ice skating lessons. The front door opened and Mila walked inside she had a Starbucks in hand and a very pissed looking teenager trailing her. Yakov walked over to them, trying to ease the tension in the atmosphere he acted uncharacteristically welcoming.

"Ready Yura?" Yakov said. Yuri brushed passed him without making eye contact.

"I don't know what you were expecting old man," Mila said, walking to the women's locker room, "maybe next time don't leave the house without him."

"Leave without him…?" Yakov mumbled. He sighed, _this is going to be harder than I thought._ Yakov knew that he had to confront his student eventually. This behavior wasn't healthy. Yakov pushed the thoughts aside and joined Yuri on the ice.

Today's practice made yesterday's disaster look like a stroll on the beach. Yuri spent more time sprawled on the ice that skating on it. Every slip, tumble, and slide was worse than the last. Yakov winced for him as he came down hard on his back for the second time in one combination. Yakov did his best not to explode.

"You keep tensing up when you plant for a jump, relax or you're never going to get the correct balance in the air." Yuri tsked at him and slowly climbed to his feet.

"I'm trying," he said through grit teeth. Yuri started again. Pushing onto the outside edge of his left skate he twisted up into a double axle- or he tried to. The second his feet left the ice he felt his stomach seize with panic. His muscles contracted in anticipation for a collision. Before he could tell himself to calm down his body smacked against the ice. There was an instant throbbing sensation in his knee and hip, he kept his eyes closed and waited for the ringing in his ears to subside. When he opened his eyes, Yakov was kneeling next to him.

"Do I need to get the trainer?" Someone asked from along the wall. Yuri pushed himself to a seated position, he could feel his leggings dampen with freezing water.

"No," he growled. He ignored Yakov's hand and once again (more clumsily this time) he stood.

"Yuri, what was that?" Yakov demanded he couldn't conceal his anger any longer. "You have to compete in less than a week, this is not the time to forget the basics!" Yakov roared. Yuri's pulse raced, his face flushed, and something inside him threatened to shatter. His whole body hurt, his mind was clouded and he couldn't even attempt a single without his stomach dropping several stories. He was physically starved and mentally exhausted.

"I'm done," he said, interrupting Yakov's rant. Yakov paused mid-breath.

"What?"

"I said I'm done. I don't want to do this anymore." I can't.

"We can take a break- but it will cut into this afternoon's practice-" Yakov didn't even have a chance to finish his sentence before Yuri erupted.

"Don't you get it? I don't want a break I want my fucking life back! I've been falling on my ass for over an hour and for what? There's no chance of me winning gold, not like this." Yuri's voice threatened to break, "I don't want this, skating, practice, living with my coaches, any of it! I want to be done!" Yuri didn't realize he had been screaming until his voice echoed back to him. The intensity of it caught him off guard.

He skated towards the exit, throwing himself out of sight before Yakov could drag him back. Yakov stood abandoned in the middle of the ice. He hadn't expected an outburst of that severity, glancing at the shocked faces around the rink he knew he needed some serious damage control.

Yuri pushed himself out the front doors and int0 the parking lot. He threw off his skates letting them fall into a pile on the asphalt. He didn't have a car and his money was inside so a taxi or bus ticket was out. His phone, change of clothes, and shoes were all in his locker. He considered leaving them and just walking but he realized he had nowhere to go. Lilia's house was locked and empty and Moscow was an impossible number of miles away. Yuri sat on the curb bracing against the cold wind. There was no way for him to understand how he both longed for comfort yet also wanted to seclude himself from every other member of society. He felt like screaming and in the empty parking lot, he did.

Yakov sat at his desk with his phone and a list of contacts in front of him. The first person he thought to call was Nikolai. If Yuri was serious about leaving the skating world he would need someone to go to. Yakov held the piece of paper with the phone number and his phone in his hands. As serious as Yuri had seemed there was no way to tell how much of his outburst was caused by pain and lack of sleep. Yakov ended up sliding Nikolai's number back in the athlete file. _If I call him now, Yuri will be gone for good._ Tapping a pen against the desk Yakov through all the ways he could talk his student down from this career ending ledge. He sent someone to find Yuri, hoping that if it wasn't himself, Yuri would at least let them get one word out. Five minutes passed, then ten. Yakov was sure Yuri wasn't coming. He leaned his head back in his chair wondering how he could have let his strongest athlete walk out without a fight.

Yakov's head bounded up as the door to his office was roughly pulled open. Yuri stood in the doorway, his cheeks were pink because of the wind and his piercing gaze was fractured. He didn't say anything.

"Yura, please sit down," Yakov said, pointing to the seat across from him. Yuri's feet remained planted to the floor. "Now Yura," Yakov prompted. Yuri rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut behind him. He slumped into the seat refusing to make eye contact.

"If you're planning to convince me to skate it won't work," Yuri blurted out, crossing his arms across his chest.

"It's been a long week, why don't you just take a minute to think about what this means."

"I know what this means!" Yuri snapped. Voices from outside the door stopped, people outside were trying to listen in. Yuri's voice lowered to a deadly whisper. "It means I might actually get to spend time with my Grandpa, It means I won't have to push my body to the breaking point every goddamn day, it means I might actually be able to get more than an hour of sleep a night." His voice was strained as he said the last line as if it was too much effort to force the words out. Yuri's eyes locked on the floor, his breathing was unsteady as if it was all he could do to keep the lump in his throat from strangling him.

"If this is about the nightmares-" Yuri made a sound in the back of his throat, Yakov continued, "there are ways to deal with those."

"What are you going to send me to a shrink?"

"If that's what it takes." Yakov looked at the crumbling boy in front of him, hoping that he would look up for just a second. "Lilia has a psychologist friend who works with professional athletes. I can ask her to call-"

"No. I don't want to talk to a psychologist." Yuri tightened the grip on his arms, bunching the fabric of his sleeves in between his fingers. Yakov exhaled loudly.

"Well if you won't talk to them you're going to have to talk to me. What are they about? The accident? The press?" Yuri's glare deepened. Yakov waved his hands in exasperation, "What is it, Yuri?" Yakov demanded, not bothering to check the volume of his voice.

"I don't know," Yuri mumbled.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know," Yuri repeated more forcefully. Yakov could feel the frustration setting in.

"What the hell is scaring you?" Yakov leaned over the desk, he was sweating. Looking at the beads of sweat on Yakov's head and listening to his thundering tone Yuri grit his teeth until it was too much to bare. He felt his insides tear apart,

"Everything!" He shouted, lurching to his feet. He stood down the older man, his hands were shaking with anger. "I'm afraid of everything!" A single tear slid down his cheek. "I can't close my eyes without seeing blood pour out of Katsudon's head. I can't attempt a jump without being terrified my ribs will snap or maybe this time it will be my neck." More tears fell from his eyes. "I thought I was going to die!" Yuri took a shuddering breath, " I was suffocating in front of the entire world, do you have any idea what that's like!" Yuri's words ran together. He pointed a trembling finger at Yakov. "I almost killed someone. Accident or not, I almost _killed_ someone," Yuri was choked up. His words struggled to escape. "And the entire freaking world won't let me forget it." Yakov stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of him. Yuri didn't bother to brush the tears off his face. Yakov's mouth was dry. His lips faltered trying to form a response,

"I understand Yura… You need to stay focused on winning and not worry about what anyone else is saying." _Was that the right thing to say?_ Yuri rolled his eyes, he laughed through a sob as it tore through his body. _It was most definitely not._

"It was nice knowing you." Yuri turned on his heels, striding to the door. Yakov jumped to his feet,

"Yura, wait!" Yuri's hand hesitated on the doorknob. Yakov approached him carefully. "Where are you going to go? Moscow? Do you really think Nikolai will let you quit like this, before the height of your career?" Yuri's back shook as more tears tried to escape. "Are you going to go to Japan? Victor says you are welcome to. Is that what you want? To become a waiter at a Japanese hot spring?" Yuri clenched the door knob in his hand. "What are you going to do Yura? Live on your own?"

"Maybe," Yuri trembled. "I don't have anyone. I never have. I'll be fine on my own." Yuri talked about leaving but his hand fell away from the doorknob.

"You're not alone Yuri, you have never been." Yakov pulled his student against his chest, wrapping his arms around the small frame. At first, Yuri pushed against him, but after a moment he let Yakov take his weight. He wailed, wetting the front of Yakov's jacket with tears. Yakov held him tightly, going against every cell in his body. "I know I'm not your grandfather, but I'll always be here for you. It's not much, but it's enough. It has to be." Yuri clung to him, the floodgates had opened and there was no chance of them closing anytime soon. Yuri let himself be held because at this point, what else was there to do?

* * *

 **Whoops it's not Friday. Well, surprise- early chapter haha. There will be more on Friday this this sort of happened. I love reading your comments and I read every single one! Have a lovely week!**


	10. Lifeline

Yuri fell asleep on the couch in Yakov's office. The over tired teenager was out like a light seconds after putting his head down. Yakov closed the door quietly behind him. The afternoon came and went and around six-thirty Yuri rolled into a seated position. He stretched his arms satisfied by the pop his back gave. Glancing at the clock he saw it was dinner break, the noises his stomach was making served as confirmation. He flipped his hood over his bed head hair and shuffled down to the lounge.

Team Russia was hunkered down with some take out from a nearby artisan cafe. His presence was noticed but no one looked twice at the groggy teenager.

"Yuri your broccoli and kale shit is on the counter," Mila said, posing for a selfie. Yuri grabbed the plastic container and a fork and claimed the corner table for himself. He stuck in earbuds, no music was playing but it kept anyone from trying to talk to him. He scrolled through his phone, there was a snapchat notification from Beka. The Kazakhstan staker wasn't one for taking selfies with puppy faced filters so Yuri assumed it was Otabek's way of cheering him up. Yuri tapped and a picture of his best friend at a nightclub popped up. Beka had his hair styled, eyeliner smudged on the corners of his eyes, and headphones hanging around his neck. The background was foggy and flashing with brightly colored light.

 _He must be DJing again._

Yuri watched the snap for the full ten seconds before preparing to send one of his own. He opened the front camera and pulled up his jacket to expose the red collar. Settling into a comfortable smirk he clicked the camera button. His eyes skinned over the picture, he was about to send it when he froze- there were noticeable tear tracks under his eyes and down his neck. Yuri whipped at his face using his fingers to scrub the dried tears from his cheeks. He put a filter over the selfie and sent it anyway, hopefully Beka wouldn't be looking to closely. Yuri finished his meal and hovered in the lounge long after everyone else had left. He shuffled his feet heading for the door and turning around last minute again and again. When Yuri finally had the courage to walk out towards the rink Yakov and Lilia were outside Yakov's office talking in hushed voices.

He walked over to them with his hands shoved deeply in his pockets, their conversation hushed when they noticed him. He cocked his head to the side giving them both the look, the _I know you were just talking about me_ look.

"Why didn't you wake me up for practice? I'll never be ready for Paris," Yuri snapped. His stomach flared with anxiety.

"We'll make up for it tomorrow, Paris is yours. Easily." Yakov locked his office door, coat in hand. Yuri grumbled and followed them out into the parking lot. His bag felt heavy on his shoulder. As the street lights passed rhythmically Yuri rehearsed his performance in his mind, willing- begging himself not to hesitate. The house was quiet when they arrived and it stayed quit when they all retired. Yuri stripped out of his unusually clean workout attire and flopped onto his bed. It would be impossible for him to fall asleep with the nap he took earlier. He turned on his phone and saw that Beka had opened his snapchat but hadn't responded. He sent him a text,

' **Are you going to Paris?'**

He watched, waiting for a response. Beka was already going to the GPF; he didn't _need_ to skate in Paris, although many qualified skaters still went for the chance to scope out the competition. His reply popped up.

' **Do you want me to?'**

Yuri rolled his eyes, his thumbs danced across the screen.

' **Don't be stupid. That's not what I was asking.'**

' **No. I'm not competing. But if you need me there I can get a ticket."**

Yuri chewed the corner of his mouth. _Beka, so freaking selfless. ugh._

' **No. Don't come just for me I'll be fine.'**

' **Will you? Mila said you were trying to quit.'**

Yuri's eyes narrowed. _He went to Mila? Baka._

' **Why the hell were you talking to Mila?**

' **Don't get upset. She reached out wanting to know if you were alright. Apparently you've been ignoring your friends at home as well.'**

 _What friends?_

' **God. I wasn't ignoring you Beka.'**

' **But you were trying to quit?'**

' **Yakov wouldn't let me'**

' **But you wanted to?'**

Yuri let his phone drop onto his chest. He stared up at the ceiling willing the twisting in his chest to subside. He lifted his phone to articulate the mess of thoughts in his head.

' **I didn't want to, I felt like I needed to. The last time I felt like myself was when my Grandpa took me skating. Now, I step on the ice and I'm lost. I don't love it anymore.'**

' **Love? Yuri you need it. Who would you be without it? If this is really what you want then walk away, but if this is because you're afraid to make a mistake…'**

' **I don't know what I'm doing. If I can't land my quads by tomorrow I'm screwed.'**

' **Then drop the attitude and let your coaches help you. You want to get better don't you?'**

' **Of course I do.'**

' **Good. Get some sleep, I'll see you in Paris.'**

Yuri smiled at his phone and rolled onto his side. Stupid Beka. Only a few hours of sleep had passed before the night was ended early.

"Yuri!" The bedroom door flew open and light from the hall flooded into the room. Yuri groaned turning away from the source of the light and the noise. "Get up."

"Piss off," Yuri grumbled. He buried his head under the blankets and rolled over, dozing back into a light sleep.

"You asked for my help, now get out of bed." Yakov walked over and ripped the covers off Yuri and threw them off to the side of the room. Yuri curled up spouting a stream of cuss words under his breath. He was assaulted with a training jacket and leggings. "Get dressed, we're leaving in ten." Yakov left slamming the door behind him. Yuri groaned sitting up and pushing the hair out of his eyes. He glanced at the alarm clock on his night stand.

"Yakov!" He howled, "It's four AM!" Yuri laid back down pulling the clothes over him as a makeshift blanket. He closed his eyes willing himself to fall back asleep. The sound of pots and pans banging together in the kitchen below him dug into his skull.

 _Is he... cooking?_

When the noise became too much to bare Yuri pulled his training clothes on and slouched his way down the stairs. Yakov shoved a plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee into his hands. Yuri set the plate down and held the warm cup to his face. He leaned against the counter sipping the overly sweetened drink. "Remind me again why I'm awake before the sun?"

"New training strategy." Yakov pulled his coat and hat on, searching through the hall closet for his shoes. Yuri looked down at his warm drink suddenly feeling very uneasy.

They had to open the rink, unlock the doors, turn on the lights, and set up the speakers. Usually, this was all done when they arrived but that was closer to seven when the sain employees showed up. Yuri threw his bag onto the bleachers and crossed his arms over his chest. Yakov walked over to open the supply closet, "get warmed up." Yuri groaned but plopped down to lace up his skates nonetheless. After several laps around the ice Yuri was starting to wake up. He spun to stretch his back and open his hips. A few more laps and he was sweating.

"Yakov hurry up!" He growled. _It's too early for this._

When Yakov did appear it took a minute for Yuri to recognize the contraption in his hands. "No way," he started, "this is your plan?" Yakov shrugged holding out the harness for Yuri to put on. Yuri grit his teeth, "I'm not a child!"

"You have a better idea? Until you can safely land your jumps you'll be practicing in this." Yuri pulled the harness on, anger bubbling up under his skin. Yakov hooked him to the cable that extended along the width of the rink. _This is ridiculous._ "Start with the triple combination from Agape." Yuri grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. He glided into a large circle and planted his skate for the jump. As he lifted himself into the air fear like a wolf lunged at him. He tensed but before it could sink its teeth into his flesh the cable was pulled taut, holding him up while he completed three tight rotations. Coming down on the edge of his left skate he pushed off again this time with a fragment of confidence. The harness was suffocating but in a good way. Like a heavy blanket in the winter it kept the demons at bay.

"That was good, remember to keep your elbows in," Yaskov said. Yuri pulled the harness strap adjusting it so it didn't dig into his stomach.

"This is stupid."

"Yes, but that's the first time all week you've jumped like the professional figure skater you are." Yakov saw Yuri glance out of the corner of his eye at the door. "We're the only ones here. Stop being embarrassed and do it again, quad lutz this time."

With the support of the cable Yuri was able to fly. His feet lifted above the ground a good foot and a half but his heart soared much higher. The cable acted as his lifeline, anchoring him to reality. His confidence didn't all of a sudden come back to him like a long lost friend. Instead it was more like a ripped piece of fabric being slowly stitched back together. After a half hour it was Yakov who suggested a break. Yuri is light but Yakov is old. He usually gives cable duty to one of his younger trainers. They both sipped water off on the side. Yuri checked his phone, an email confirming his flight for thursday night caused him to bite the inside of his cheek.

"Let's get back to work." Yuri skated off to the center of the ice, tightening the straps on the harness. Yakov followed startled by the sudden surge of motivation coming off his 'couldn't care less' student.

Yuri was enjoying himself for the first time in weeks. He let himself have fun, raising his arms above his head as he spun. He landed and immediately threw himself into another jump. His heart thumped to the sound of his skates scraping across the ice like the cursive writing in a love letter. His world consisted of a blur of light and color- just how he liked it. Nothing could ruin this.

Mila sipped a cup of coffee as she entered the building. She was surprised to hear voices, usually she was the first one there (to get some extra time on the ice before lessons). She pulled out one of her earbuds and stood wide eyed as she watched The ice tiger of Russia perform a double arm raised, quad axle and land it.

"Holy shit Yura! That was amazing!" Yuri froze. Both he and Yakov turned to face her. She ran over and leaned on the rink wall. "When did you learn how to do that?" Yuri's expression was distant.

"What are you doing here hag?" His tone was cold. It was then Mila noticed the harness and cable.

"I thought I'd come in early for some extra practice. Am I in the way?"

"Yes," Yuri said. At the same time Yakov said no. They made eye contact. "Fine. but stay on the far side." Mila sent him a smile of thanks, which he ignored, and shipped on her skates.

From the other side of the ice Mila was constantly distracted by the twirling teen across from her. Agape was being played over the speakers and Yuri performed his short program over and over again. She knew he must be exhausted but there was a force of life that surrounded him. It was almost as if, and Mila would deny if anyone asked, Yuri was happy.

The night on the frozen pond was the only memory Yuri allowed to fill his mind. He could feel the agape coursing through his veins. For the first time in a long time he was alive. He ended his run through with his arms reaching for the sky.

"Beautiful Yuratchka!" Yakov said. Yuri glanced at him. He wasn't holding the cable.

 _When did he let go?_

"That one was was all you Yuri," Mila said softly as she skated past him. He kept a neutral expression but pride swelled in his chest. He unclipped himself from the cable and coasted into a relaxed cool down. Mila had her earbuds in and was working through a section of her free skate. She had a sequence of double flip, backspin, straight into the step sequence. She almost always slipped on the transitions. Normally that would mean changing the routine but unfortunately Mila couldn't afford to lose any points. She wavered coming out of her spin falling onto the ice. Yuri saw a wince flash across her face.

"You alright ведьма? You look kind of stiff." Yuri said as he glided past her. He stopped and held out a hand to pull her up.

"Thanks tiger," she took his hand, " I wish my boyfriend had been a little more considerate last night. I haven't been this sore in a while." Yuri's face contorted in disgust. He let go of Mila's hand letting her fall back on her butt.

"What makes you think I want to hear stuff like that! Crazy сука! " Yuri mumbled, skating off to the far side of the rink and staying there.

"Love you too Yura!" Mila called after him laughing.

On his lunch break, which he took early due to skipping breakfast, Yuri walked a few blocks to get a bagel sandwich from his favorite bakery. Sitting at the counter he looked at his messages. Victor had sent a selfie where he was standing in front of the hot spring. The weird looking fish statue thing was visible in the top corner. Katsudon was laying on the ground in the bottom left corner. Under the picture Victor said, ' **Hope you are well! Yuuri and I just ran two miles through town. Can't wait to see you on Saturday!'** Yuri rolled his eyes at the weird old man who couldn't go a day without sending some annoying selfie or picture of his dog. Mila had also sent him something, a clip of him skating attached to the cable. Yuri saved the video to his camera roll. He was practically high off the feeling of accomplishment and excitement. Opening his instagram he posted the video with no comment or explanation.

 _After all, what could they possibly say that is worse than what they already have?_

Going back to his messages Yuri opened Katsudon's contact. He typed out, ' **I'm sorry'** but deleted that and instead he wrote, ' **Get ready. Paris is mine.'**

Yuri set his phone face down on the counter and enjoyed his lunch.

* * *

 **A.N: Yeah I know I'm late to update. oops. keep coming with the comments and suggestions. I'll be back on Friday with another chapter (its almost done eeeek!). It will get angsty later but I needed this transition chapter for overall plot and stuff. Also,** **Lihi portal I read all of your comments (you're such a sweetheart by the way) I've sent multiple PM's but I don't think they're going through, I'd really like to thank you though so hit me up with a PM or check out my insta (I'll put it in my bio if you ask for it).**


	11. What happened to you Yura

Yuuri stared at the text message for a long time. He blinked at it but it was still there every time he opened his eyes. Victor was behind him draped across his shoulder.

"Should I respond?" Yuuri asked. Victor squinted his eyes looking at the five word message like it was in code.

"I'm not sure… it's probably nothing, you know how he is." Yuuri spun to face the silver- sorry, platinum haired man.

"Probably nothing? Victor, he wouldn't talk to me for weeks and suddenly out of the blue, this? It has to mean something!"

"Well what do I know? He's talked to me plenty of times."

"Don't remind me," Yuuri mumbled.

"It's not like you reached out to him either." Victor's tone had an edge to it.

"I would have… But I just felt-feel so guilty. I didn't think I could face him. I could have ended his career Victor. He's just a kid, if that accident was the end for him…"

"Yeah well it wasn't and by the text he just sent you he's up and fighting. Maybe you should be doing the same." Victor pulled him across the room and over to the door. "Let's get some practice in before lunch." Yuuri let Victor drag him out the front door and towards the rink.

"Do you think I should call?"

"He probably won't answer," victor shrugged. "Why is this suddenly so important. He texted you, big deal."

"Yes it's a big deal!" Yuuri snapped. "He talks to you. You're the one he calls in the middle of the night. After it happened he wouldn't even look at me. He didn't yell, or fight, nothing. Complete silence."

"Yuuri if it's bothering you you can reply, he doesn't always answer text messages but he always reads them." They continued to walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the slight breeze.

"I don't want to make it worse by saying the wrong thing." Yuuri looked up from the sidewalk and noticed Victor had stopped walking.

"Did you ever consider that's maybe how he feels too?" Victor continued walking. Yuuri adjusted his glasses and hooked his thumbs into the straps of his backpack. "I can talk to him, let him know you want to work things out." Yuuri's eyes shot up.

"No! I mean… wouldn't it be weird coming from you? He'll just think I'm too scared to talk to him or something."

"Aren't you?"

"No... I'll reply I just need to find the right thing to say. Promise you'll stay out of it."

"Sure, sure, no problem." Victor flashed his signature smile

A few hours later and more than a few countries over Yuri was woken up from a late morning nap by the sound of his phone buzzing.

"Victor what the hell," Yuri groaned. "Can't you leave me alone for one day?"

Yuri skimmed over the text message,

' **Call me when you get a chance.' 'P.s. if you don't I'll call you until you answer, starting at 1 am Moscow time ;P'**

Yuri glared at his phone and shot back a quick reply,

' **I have a break at 2. Be prepared to speak quickly.'**

Yuri yawned and stretched himself out across the bleachers. 4 am practice was really taking its toll. Lilia walked over to him clearing her throat until he bent his legs giving her room to sit down.

"Don't you have classes to teach at the studio?"

"It's my lunch break."

"And you're spending it in this hell hole?"

"I'm confirming our session for this afternoon."

"I'll be there, three thirty right?"

"three." Lilia looked down at him with sharp eyes. Yuri grumbled something and put his arm over his eyes.

"How are your feet? Are you taking care of them?" without waiting for a reply she pulled one of his legs onto her lap whisking off his sneakers and socks in what seemed like one motion. She pursed her lips at the scabbed over blisters.

"We've talked about this Yuri. With all the time in stakes and in the studio you have to be more proactive with taking care of blisters. Get your feet taped by the trainer before our lesson."

"Fine," Yuri mumbled, beginning to doze off. Lilia's hands worked their way up to his calf, working out tightness from earlier and a decent sized knot. It felt amazing. So good infact that Yuri couldn't help but fall asleep.

There was a hand on his shoulder.

 _Maybe if I ignore it they'll go away…_

"Yuri?..." a tentative voice asked. The hand tapped more urgently this time. "Yuri Plisetsky, are you awake?"

"No," Yuri said, cracking his eyes open. A young girl stood in front of him. She was maybe eleven but probably younger. Yuri recognized her but that was the extent of their relationship.

"Mr. Feltsmen is almost done with his lesson. He's asking for you."

"Of course he is," Yuri sighed, sitting up and looking across the ice. Yakov was at one end with one of the junior skaters, on the other end Georgie was working with a class of beginners. Yuri put on his skates and stepped out onto the ice. He glided over towards Yakov, he noticed the junior student was getting an earful for not maintaining correct balance in a spin. Looping around so he wasn't interrupting Yuri stopped next to Georgie. The taller skater was instructing a handful of six year olds in the art of backwards skating.

"Just move your feet from wide to skinny and you'll push yourself back," he said. Noticing Yuri he added, "Yuri if you want to help-"

"Not really." Georgie shrugged and quickly went over to show one of the students how to move their feet and not just swing their legs back and forth. Yuri stood on one leg, hand on his hip watching as the little people around him clumsily propelled themselves backwards. One of the students slipped, out of instinct Yuri shot over to steady her.

"Careful!" He warned, holding her forearm. She looked up at him with big crocodile tears gathering in her eyes.

"I can't do it!" She wailed.

"Oh geez, kid.. Calm down it's just backwards skating. It's _easy."_ She continued to cry. Yuri tried signaling to Georgie but he was busy with someone else. "Try again."

The girl pushed her skates wide apart and yanked her feet back together. The jarring motion sent her flying onto her backside. Yuri winced. "You're alright." He pulled her back up. "Don't fight the ice, move slowly." He demonstrated gliding in an fluid backward loop. She watched him and attempted to mimic his actions. She didn't look smooth in the slightest, but she was moving. Her face lit up in a grin so wide Yuri was sure she'd split her cheeks. Georgie smiled from the other side of the kid circle.

"You're pretty good at this you know."

"Whatever. It's just backwards staking," Yuri mumbled. He turned and noticed Yakov watching with a stupid grin on his face. "What are you smiling at you old geezer?"

 _I'm back._ Yuri completed his short program and free skate flawlessly. So flawlessly in fact that Yakov let him finish early. He packed up his leopard print duffle bag and headed for the locker room to change. His locker was the same locker he had used since the beginning of the junior division. It was bad luck to get a new one. There were faded cat stickers in the very back and a rare picture of himself, his mother, and his grandfather, it too was faded and old. Yuri packed away his skates and stashed an assortment of Lilia-not-approved snacks in the back. He pulled on street clothes for the short bus ride to the dance studio. He jumped slightly as his phone rang. He had to fight his instinct to decline the call the second he read Victor's name. Grinding his teeth he jabbed the answer icon with his thumb.

"What do you want Victor? I have to get to the studio."

"Hi Yurio, I thought you said you had time to talk." Victor's voice was cool and collected.

"I said I had a break not that I had time to talk." Yuri slammed his locker shut.

"This will only take a minute. I have it on good authority that someone here wants to talk to you."

"What? Victor I don't have time for this. I'm hanging up."

"Hold on! Just a second." Yuri could hear the sound of movement, doors opening, footsteps and then the muffled sound of multiple voices. Yuri could only make out a few words, something along the lines of "Victor you promised." Yuri rolled his eyes,

"Victor?" He waited. When no one responded he tried again louder. "Seriously old man, you have two seconds before I block your number."

"Yurio?"

Yuri froze. His mouth dried up like the desert. He forced words into his throat but only one escaped.

"Katduson-" God, he sounded like he was choking on a sticky bun.

"Yurio are you ok?" Yuri's hand gripped his phone so tightly the edges left an imprint in his palm.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he spat. Yuuri faltered on the other end.

"Victor just threw his phone at me I thought something might be wrong. I…" Yuuri trailed off lost for words. Yuri's heart thumped in his chest, the rushing sound it made in his ears almost drowned out Yuuri's rambling. "Yurio I'm so sorry."

 _What?!_

Yuri dropped onto the long bench, his lungs seemed to forgot how to take in air. "I wanted to apologize sooner but I didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone who almost lost their ability to skate because of you?" Yuuri chuckled nervously. "I keep wishing I could go back and change what happened. It-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Yuri's voice was shaking.

"Yurio, please just listen. I know you probably hate me right now; I shouldn't have been in the way. I'm sorry." Yuri gripped the edge of the bench for dear life.

"Stop." His voice was barely audible. He took a trembling breath, "Stop talking." Yuuri could hear the change in breathing over the phone. To him Yuri sounded furious but he couldn't have been more wrong. "Take it back, all of it. You shouldn't be apologising to me if anything-" His voice cut off as his vocal chords were pinched by emotion.

 _Just say you're sorry. It shouldn't be this hard._

"You almost died. I almost killed you." The lump in Yuri's throat was audible in the wavering of his voice.

"Yurio that wasn't your fault," Yuuri started. His brows knit together as he listened to Yuri's the uneven breathing pattern.

"Why does everyone keep saying that!" Yuri shouted. "Stop saying that! Of course it's my fault!" He could feel himself derailing. "I could have… I should have... It never should have happened!"

"You couldn't have prevented it Yurio. Neither of us could have. It was an _accident_."

 _No. Stop being nice to me. Stop pretending what I did was ok._

Yuri screwed his eyes shut.

"You should have seen him right after it happened. He was so upset. I've never seen him like that before."

"Victor?" Yuuri asked gently. Yuri ignored the question and kept talking.

"I thought you were dead. He kept shouting at you, begging you to wake up. There was so much blood…" Yuri swallowed. "I thought I was going to suffocate but I didn't care because-"

"Yurio don't," Yuuri intergected.

"-It would have been what I deserved." The line went silent.

"How dare you say that." Yuuri's voice was thick with unshed tears. Yuri's eyes widened. "You can't take the blame for what happened. I won't let you." Yuri's stomach clenched.

 _No! No!_

Yuri made a sound like a roar. "You still don't get it you stupid pig! I saw you coming! I knew you were close but I didn't care. I was so absorbed in my own selfish world that I didn't bother waiting until you were out of the way." His voice broke. "I thought I could make it… but then you went left. Why did you go left?" Yuuri could hear the tears cascade down Yuri's face. "I deserve everything they said about me. I should have died that day, sprawled out on the ice for everyone to see." Yuri's lungs had given up. No amount of inhaling could satisfy his body's craving for oxygen.

 _He knows. Everyone is going to know. They'll make me quit. I don't want it to be over!_

He could hear Katsudon crying. It was too much. Yuri wanted to hang up but he couldn't get his hand to move away from his ear.

"Yuuri?" Victor's voice could be heard over the phone. "What happened? What did he say to you?" He was angry.

"Victor no-" through Yuuri's blubbering Victor had ripped the phone out of his hand.

"Yuri what did you do?" He demanded. Yuri's blood froze in his veins. His heart raced wildly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Yuri sobbed. He folded in on himself, his head was beginning to feel light. "No one was supposed to get hurt. I thought I had enough room. He went left!" Yuri breathily tried to convey a fragment of what was racing through his mind. "I didn't mean to. Please you have to believe me. He has to believe me!" Yuri's world began to spin.

"Give me the phone," Yuuri's voice could be heard in the background, "Victor, I want to talk to him."

"No, no I can't," Yuri said. He couldn't face him. He couldn't hear the hurt in his voice.

"Just breathe," Victor whispered in Russian. "You're going to faint if you don't calm down."

 _Don't try to help me. Once he tells you what I did you'll wish I was dead._

Yuri ended the call. "Yurio? Yuri? Dammit." Victor ran a hand through his hair.

"You promised you'd stay out of it," Yuuri said angrily. He got up from his chair and stormed out of the room.

Yuri hunched over on the bench trying to steady himself.

 _In and out. Move the air in deeply, hold, exhale slowly._

Once the world stopped rotating Yuri sat up straighter. He stood on shaky legs and instantly felt nauseous. He pushed himself over towards the bathrooms. He braced on the sink trying to calm his stomach. He turned on the faucet and pushed his hair back. He gagged but thankfully he wasn't sick. He looked at himself in the mirror.

 _They'll all find out eventually_ _but I'm not going down without a fight._

Yuri splashed his face with freezing water, grabbed his bag, and hurried to catch his bus.

. . .

"Yuuri," Victor called, following after the Japanese man. "I thought it would help if you talked." Yuuri turned to face him.

"Do you have any idea how messed up he is about this?" Yuuri's eyes were red. "He's managed to convince himself that the whole thing was his fault."

"I thought if he got a chance to talk to you, if he knew you were ok he could move past it," Victor said quietly.

"He wanted to die Victor! And he still might," Yuuri's voice broke. Victor's hands gripped Yuuri's shoulders, he searched his face.

"I knew he was upset but I never for a second thought… What did he say?" Yuuri took a breath and exhaled it forcefully.

"He said he saw me coming. And that he knew there was a chance we'd run into each other."

"But that's impossible, you were both facing the other way."

" _I_ _know_. And I could never blame him because even if he had gotten a glimpse of me there is no way he'd have been able to stop." Yuuri looked up and met Victor's eyes.

"We shouldn't have left him alone Victor. You should have heard his voice… he's so afraid that people will leave him once they find out."

"Find out what?" Victor asked exasperated. "It. Was. An. Accident."

"Yurio doesn't see it that way and the guilt is killing him." Yuuri grabbed Victor's arm. "Call who ever you need to; make sure Yurio isn't alone tonight."

. . .

The bus was fairly empty, perk of traveling in the middle of the day. Yuri's knees bounced restlessly. When his stop arrived he almost just stayed on the bus. It was so strange a few minutes ago he was overwhelmed with emotion but now he felt nothing. He was empty. Climbing down the bus steps and walking through the doors of the dance studio Yuri was but a shadow of himself. He knew something was wrong but he walked to the bathroom and changed anyway, he warmed up and stretched anyway. It was only when he was standing at the bar and the nausea returned did he think that showing up to his lesson wasn't the best idea. He took deep breaths pushing down his body's desire to vomit. Lilia entered the room her shoes clicked against the hard floor.

"You're on time, good." She walked over and started up his free skate music. "Run it through, focusing on your arms and core position."

"I don't think I can today," Yuri said. Lilia's eyes narrowed.

"Lack of sleep is no excuse. You were fine to practice with Yakov I expect the same effort here."

"But-"

"This is not the behavior of a champion. Do you want to win in Paris, Yuri? Do you want to make it to the Grand Prix Final?"

"Yes," Yuri said through clenched teeth.

"Then prove it."

Yuri tried he really did. He tried to hold his arms straight and jump with good height. He tried to put everything out of his mind except the choreography to his program. And he tried to project feeling into his performance even though he was feeling nothing at all. But it wasn't enough. It was, "sloppy, basic, and dull." Lilia's words nipped at him but all it did was make him tired. More tired than he thought he could ever be. He stopped. Toppling over on shaky legs he grabbed the bar to support himself. Lilia advanced on him.

"You've hardly started keep going until you get it right."

"Lilia please," Yuri pleaded. It had to have been the desperate wavering in his voice that made Lilia immediately changed her tone. She strided over to him.

"Are you ill?" Her eyes scanned over his body.

"I don't know," Yuri mumbled. He slid so he was sitting with his back was against the wall. He was freezing. His stomach was spinning and he hoped to God he wouldn't ruin her shoes.

"What caused this?" Lilia asked, crouching down next to him.

"He called me."

"Who?"

"Katsuki." Yuri bent his knees and rested his forearms on them. "I told him everything."

"What are you talking about? Yuri?" Lilia placed her hand on his shoulder. She didn't like the look of the near lifeless form in front of her.

"It wasn't an accident Lilia." He put his head in his arms. Lilia's hand left his shoulder. She stared at him trying to understand. Surly her student had not intentionally injured another sater. That wasn't possible. Or… at least she hoped it wasn't.

"I don't understand Yuri." Yuri mumbled something she couldn't hear. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at it. Yakov. She stood up and stepped over to the side, Yuri didn't even notice.

"Yakov," she said.

"Is he with you?" Yakov asked gruffly.

"Yes." There was a pause.

"Don't leave him Lilia he's not well." There was a sadness to Yakov's voice.

"I know," Lilia said. She looked over at her student, or she thought it was her student. Yuri was unrecognisable. He was fine earlier, in fact he was _happy_. What happened? "What happened to you Yura?" Lilia whispered. She began gathering her things. When she looked back over at Yuri he had his head raised. He was staring across the room blankly. His eyes were hollow. She went over to him. "You're going to be alright. Whatever is going on we can fix it. It's not over Yuri." She brushed the hair away from his face. He looked at her and Lilia got the sinking feeling that he didn't believe her.

* * *

A.N~ well... It's not Friday but I somehow (maybe because I had actual real world work to do) wrote this chapter in a few hours. Its now very, very late and I have to be up in the morning but I'm not even mad because this is exciting. This wasn't part of the outline. Fanfic gone rogue haha. This opens up a door for a much more in depth ending. There is only a little bit left to this story... it's been a good run and now we're in the home stretch. It's a bit of a cliff hanger so sorry about that. I should have more done on Friday. Enjoy your week! -I Can Never Tell


	12. Words

**NOTE: This chapter hits on some heavy mental stuff. Discussion of suicide. You know yourself, please do not read if it will negatively affect your mental health. The next chapter will be written in a way that this one can be skipped with out missing any major plot points.**

* * *

Yuri followed Lilia to her car. She looked at him like he was going to crumble into pieces and ruin the interior of her inappropriately expensive convertible.

 _I'm causing trouble._

Yuri kept his eyes trained out the window. This was different than fear. Fear was easily understandable; a stimulus that promotes a response. To overcome said response all that is required is to either reduce the importance of the stimuli or implement a different response. But this… this deep inescapable emptiness… How could that possibly be explained? It was a complete physical and mental shut down.

Lilia pulled into the driveway and Yuri rolled out the passenger side and made his way inside. He couldn't decide if he wanted to run 17 miles or lay down forever. Yakov was sitting at the kitchen table. "Yuri come in here please," He called. Yuri walked in with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What is this some kind of intervention?" He mocked halfheartedly. There was a vase of flowers in the center of the table. Lilia didn't like flowers, she said they were only beautiful for a second and not worth having. Yakov noticed his puzzled expression.

"Those came for you." He plucked the small white card from the large red blossoms and handed it to Yuri. Yuri recognized his grandfather's handwriting instantly. Next to it a swirly font he had never seen before.

 **Good luck Yuratchka! -Nikolai and Albina**

Yuri held the small square of cardstock in his hands. His heart began to throb, pulsing like a broken bone. He didn't notice Lilia walk in and sit across from Yakov. The flowers were so beautiful. "What happened today?" Yakov asked him. Yuri was still staring at the blue twirly ink. He shrugged. "Victor called me shortly after you left the rink. He said there had been a disagreement."

"Not a disagreement," Yuri interjected. "An apology."

"What for?" Yakov pried gently. Yuri swallowed.

"The collision in Moscow." A drop of water fell onto the card in his hand, the blue ink began to run along the edges of the letters. Yuri put a hand to his face.

 _Am I crying?_

He blinked away the moisture from his eyes. "If you talked to Victor you already know what happened."

"I'm asking you." Yakov looked older than he had yesterday. Yuri felt frustration prickle along the back of his neck.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

"We know that Yuri," Lilia said, "but you're going to have to tell us anyway." Yuri sighed, rolling his eyes.

"It's not a big deal. I told the katsudon the truth, he got upset, and Victor got mad. that's it." They both looked at him waiting for him to continue. "Look I'm sorry about the studio. I'll make it up tomorrow can I go now?"

"Sit down Yura," Lilia said, lacing her fingers together and resting her hands on the table. Yuri huffed but slouched into the chair opposite them. Yakov pulled his laptop out and opened it. Yuri watched with his arm crossed over his chest as Yakov messed up his password three times. He pulled up a YouTube video making it widescreen. Yuri recognized what it was immediately. He scoffed and rolled his eyes,

"Seriously?" Yakov just grunted and pressed the play button. Yuri watched as the camera panned over the ice. Everywhere skaters were warming up, Yuri's stomach filled with ice water. "I don't want to watch this." The announcer's voice was loud and piercing.

 _It's coming._

"Yakov turn it off," Yuri snarled.

"Just watch," Yakov replied. Yuri could feel his body brace for impact. Yuuri was practicing the step sequence to Eros, he swung his arms around but that wasn't what captured the attention of the cringing blond teenager.

 _He's facing the wrong way. Turn around you idiot!_

The camera panned over and Yuri was on screen. He was scowling like usual and weaving around the other skaters in an almost frantic motion. He swung around into the middle of the rink and set up for a quad lutz. Yuri gulped. His brain started the countdown. _Eleven.. Ten..._ "I've seen this already." _Nine…_ Yuri's hands started sweating, he drummed his fingers on the table. "What's the point of doing this?"

"Just watch." _Eight… Seven..._ Yuri crossed his arms over his chest and bounded his legs. He exhaled loudly and tipped his head back and rolled his shoulders. _Six… Five…_

"Yakov I don't want to see this. I can't watch this again." _four… three…_ "Yakov!" _Two…_ Yuri took a shuddering breath. _One_. Yuri's eyes locked on the screen. His heart hammered in his ears. Impact. Yuri collided with the katsudon's chest with his turned shoulder. Yuuri flipped, coming down head first on the ice. He knocked Yuri off his feet as he fell, jabbing his knee into Yuri's side. The gasp was audible on the video. Yuri screwed his eyes shut.

"Watch Yuri." But Yuri only shook his head. He knew what was coming.

"Yuuri! Please!" Victor's voice stood out from the crowd.

"Turn it off! Now!" Yuri shouted. "I swear to God I'll snap that laptop in two and shove the pieces through your skull." Yuri's voice was venomous. The video paused.

"Open your eyes, Yuri." Yakov's tone was strict. Yuri looked up at him with a death glare. "Did you see it?"

"The crash? Yeah. Kind of hard to miss."

"No, did you see where you were looking?"

"I was looking at the Katsudon. Why are you doing this? Why are you making me relive this?"

"Because you don't remember it correctly."

"Remember? I lived it!" Yuri pushed the laptop away from him.

"You didn't see him, Yuri"

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't. You didn't see him with enough time to stop." Yakov stared down the teenager in front of him. Yuri growled and dug his fingernails into his palms. "Watch it again, see? You didn't even flinch. You had no idea it was coming." Yuri glanced at the screen.

 _I didn't see him? But… that doesn't make any sense._

The world was still cold. Yuri was submerged.

"What does it matter?" Yuri leaned back in his chair. Yakov and Lilia were taken aback. They made eye contact with each other.

"There was nothing you could have done," Lilia said. "So you can't blame yourself." Yuri turned toward her. Anger was the only feeling that cut through his numbness and he embraced it.

"You think watching that would make me feel better? Well, guess what? I still feel like my chest is caving in on itself." Yuri started at the table, tracing the wood grain with his eyes.

"Yura, maybe Paris isn't the best idea." Lilia looked at him with concern. Yuri's eyes widened in shock.

"Don't you dare take Paris away from me. You're the ones who have been pushing so hard." His voice was rising by the second.

"You have to get healthy first Yura," Yakov added.

"Don't Yura me," Yuri mocked. "I'm holding my own."

"Are you?" Lilia asked. "From what I've seen-" Yuri scoffed interrupting her.

"You haven't seen anything, you think this is bad? One bad day? For the past month my life has been series of bad days and you only now noticed." Yuri looked at the floor. There was a long pause.

"We only want what's best for you Yuri and right now, Paris isn't what's best." Yakov looked at his student with a profound sadness. Yuri looked back at him his words sounded muffled as if he was deep under the sea. An anchor hung from his heart.

"Why are you doing this?" Yuri asked, his throat burned. "Is this because of what Victor said?" His breath caught in his throat.

"Victor was only concerned for you," Yakov said. Yuri nodded, his eyes became glassy.

"And you believe him? Over me? You haven't seen him in person in months. He walked out on you." Yuri's voice shook with frustration. "I'm fine! I have to be fine because it's my only option. I'll train harder than everyone at the rink, hell, harder than everyone in the world."

"That won't be necessary," Yakov seemed to be taking the loss of his star pupil as hard as Yuri was. "There is always next season."

"No."

"Yura-"

"No. I won't accept that."

"You don't have a choice," Lilia said, the words were spoken softly but that didn't lessen their blow. Yuri's brain faltered.

"This is my only thing," Yuri's voice broke, "You can't take this from me. It's the only thing I have."

"I'm sorry Yuri," Yakov said.

 _No, you're not. But you're about to be_.

Something inside him snapped. All the progress, all the work, for nothing. Nothing! Yuri but the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He couldn't go back to that dinky cottage in the middle of the Russian countryside that wasn't his life. His life was skating. Were they trying to help him? Couldn't they see that a life off the ice was worse than death?

"Well, we should let him know. He's going to want to hear about how helpful he was," Yuri's tone was frightening. This wasn't the voice of a smartass teenager, this was the voice of someone who had nothing to lose. Yuri pulled out his phone with shaky hands. He dialed the number and hit the call button. It was answered on the first ring.

"Yu-" Victor was cut off with a dramatic, over the top,

"Vitya! Shouldn't you be asleep? It's late in Japan…" Yuri kept his eyes locked on the adults in front of him.

"Yuri, I'm relieved you called."

"I have news," Yuri paused, "Looks like you and the piggy will be going to Paris without me."

"What?" Victor asked, his heart thumped irregularly.

" That's what happens when you make a big deal out of nothing," Yuri raised his voice, "that's what happens when you mess with other people's lives!" His teeth ground together so hard he thought for sure he would break them. "I should have never spoken to you. I should have known you'd mess it up." Yuri took a shaky breath to steady himself. He locked eyes with his trainers, his 'family' and said words that made the room drop fifty degrees. "Welcome to suicide watch. Are you happy now Victor?" Victor's head started to ring. He fell onto the closest chair and shook as icy fear ran through his veins. Yuri looked at Lilia's wounded expression and the way Yakov's eyes widened in horror. He lowered the phone onto his shoulder, "don't look so surprised, that's what this is isn't it?"

"Yura…" Victor choked out. "Please let me explain when Yuuri told me what you said I didn't know what else to do. I was worr-"

"No," Yuri cut him off, "you don't get to explain yourself. You don't get a chance to feel better about this. Because of you I actually have a reason to kill myself." The words flew out of him with no restraint. He was drowning, suffering. He wanted them to feel what they were doing to him. He ended the call. Immediately his phone rang, he ignored it.

"Do you mean that Yuri?" Lilia asked tears tell from her eyes. Yuri looked at her, for a second he felt guilty but his anger was smothering it.

"You're taking away the only good thing in my life. Does that answer your question?" He was being cruel. Yuri didn't want to die. He stood up and walked toward the stairs.

"Stop. Not another step Yuri or I swear you'll be in a hospital faster than you can blink," Lilia said, rising from her seat as well. He turned to face them,

"Let me compete in Paris." They didn't respond. "I'll do whatever you want, I'll talk to a shrink, whatever… Just give me the chance to prove myself," He begged. "Look, I'm not going to do anything! I'm not ready to die and I'm not ready to end my career either."

"How could we possibly trust you?" Yakov asked.

"I was trying to scare Victor into minding his own business. I can do this. I can win." Lilia walked over to him. She was breathing harshly and her eyes were unreadable.

"Trying to scare him?" she asked. Yuri's cheek burned as her hand slapped across his face. "If you ever say something like that again-"

"Or you'll kick me out? You'll call my grandpa? News flash Lilia, there is nothing you can do to me that is worse than this. Nothing." Yuri turned and disappeared up the stairs slamming his door closed behind him.

Yuri locked the door for good measure. "I can't believe them!" He groaned, pulling on his hair and pacing around his room. The suitcase he had been packing was lying out on his bed. He walked over and chucked it across the room. It smacked against the wall slipping the contents onto the already cluttered floor. Next came the posters on his wall. He shredded them in his hands. His mind was spinning, his heart burned with anger, but his fingers were numb with apathy. "I was so close!" His voice cut out with a contained sob. "Three days! Fuck!" He slid to the floor. His face was wet with tears but they didn't do anything to ease his frustration. He couldn't sit. He couldn't sleep. His body was humming. "What am I going to do?" He got up and walked over to his window. He yanked it open and stared at the street below.

 _Just jump._ His heart seized with panic. "No," he muttered. _It will be over_. The voice in his head became louder. "I don't want…" _You deserve it._ "I don't want to die!" Yuri slammed the window closed and locked it. He could hear Lilia and Yakov coming up the stairs. Yuri slid to the floor and put his head in his arms.

"Yuri open the door!" Yakov thundered. Yuri couldn't move.

"Leave me alone!" He shouted. The doorknob jiggled and Yakov cursed when he couldn't force the door open.

 _There are pills in dresser…. A razor in the shower…_

Yuri sobbed louder. The majority of himself wanted to push past this, pick himself up and move on. But there was a fraction of himself that just wanted it to be over. And that was terrifying.

"Yuri! Unlock the door!" there were more thumping and pounding sounds.

"It was just to scare Victor," he groaned quietly.

 _Was that it? What could you possibly have to live for?_

 _Shut up!_ He got to his feet. _I have everything to live for._ "I'm going to Paris." He walked over and opened the door. Yakov was red in the face.

"Absolutely no locked doors! Do you understand me?!" He screamed. He looked at Yuri and the tears on his face, he looked past and saw the state of his room.

"We need to talk," Yuri said. His voice was dripping with determination.

They were sitting in the living room. Yuri's cat was sitting next to him, he had a hand on her back. "I'm struggling," he admitted. "But… I need to compete. I need to prove to myself that I can." Yuri's legs bounced restlessly. "I shouldn't have said what I said to Victor. He was right to be worried. I've been… having these flashbacks." Yakov and Lilia listened quietly. "And when they happen it feels like I can't breathe." He pulled his cat onto his lap and held her close. "I had one when Katsuki called. Maybe what happened was an accident but that doesn't make me feel any less guilty. I wanted it to stop, and that's why I…" Yuri had to pause to prevent his voice from breaking. "I don't want to die." He finished and looked at his coaches. Lilia seemed to exhale for the first time since he started talking. Yakov looked somewhat relieved as well.

"We'll get you help Yuri," Lilia said.

"I know. And I know I need it. But can't it wait just a few days?" Yuri's voice was pleading. Yakov and Lilia looked at each other.

"If I don't go back what will they say about me? The world already thinks I'm weak."

"You're not weak Yuri."

"Then let me show them," Yuri begged. They all jumped when yuri's phone rang.

"It's been doing that since you hung up on him," Yakov said. Yuri reached over and grabbed his phone.

"I should apologize," Yuri said. He got up and walked into the other room before accepting the call.

"Victor…"

"Yuri thank God," Victor's voice was clearly shaken. "I thought you were going to-"

"I know. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Yuri could feel the tone shifting.

"You're sorry?" Victor was something further than angry. "You said you wanted to kill yourself and then you hung up." Yuri cringed.

"I know… I-there's something wrong with me." Victor didn't say anything for a long time.

"Yura…"

"Please, I need to explain and I don't really know how. I wanted it to end. The guilt, the panic attacks, the emptiness. But I don't want to die. When they said I couldn't compete I lost it. I should have never taken it out on you."

"I understand Yuri. You're not the only one who's gone through a tough time."

Yuri's eyes widened.

"You?"

"A story for another time. I'm glad you're safe."

"I just wish I could convince them that I am."

"Do you want to go to Paris Yuri?"

"More than anything." There was a pause.

"Then maybe there is something I can do to help." Yuri's heart jumped.

"Seriously?"

"Come on Yurio, you know meddling in other people's business is my specialty."

"I-thank you." Yuri felt something fluttering in his stomach, something warm.

"Don't thank me yet, you know how stubborn Yakov can be."

"Why are you doing this for me? After what I said."

"You think a few mean words and a minor heart attack are enough to get rid of me? No way. Get some sleep Yuri, I'll see you in Paris."

And just like that Victor's voice was gone. Yuri was surprised and confused, to say the least. The phone call had given him something he thought was lost forever, a sliver of hope.

Yuri has no idea how it happened but two days later he was on a plane to Paris. Yakov and Lilia spent the days after breathing down his neck. He wasn't even mad about it, it helped keep him from overthinking. Before they let him pack his bag he had to make an appointment with Lilia's psychologist friend. And the warning that 'at the first sign of trouble,' Yuri would be flown back to Russia and taken out off the ice indefinitely.

Yuri was a bundle of nerves. He had been on the plane and he still was hours after they checked into the hotel. Yuri was tired of flipping through TV channels his stomach was turning uneasily. He got up and grabbed his phone and room key and walked towards the elevator. He avoided staff and arriving skaters and headed for the door. Yuri stepped out of the hotel lobby with his hood drawn up over his face. He had chosen a plain gray hoodie over his Team Russia jacket in order to draw less attention to himself. There wasn't any hiding his blond, shoulder length hair and identifiable stature. He could feel them following him before he saw them. The sound of light footsteps, a camera flash out of the corner of his eye, and the unmistakable sound of female whispering. Yuri was used to being trailed by fans, especially around competition time… but these were no angels. His angels would never be so discrete. He turned a corner making sure to remember his way back.

"Yuri Plisetsky!" A heavily accented voice said behind him. Yuri turned with a glare sat snugly on his face. Two teenage girls stood in front of him. Both of them had on Japanese, Katsuki merch.

 _Oh great. The piggy has fans._

"What do you want?" He said through a clenched jaw.

"You shouldn't be here," the taller, French girl said with such a heavy French accent Yuri had to strain to understand her English. "I thought they banned cheaters."

"So this is about Moscow…" Yuri trailed off. "Well I hate to disappoint but I'm here to win. You're precious Katsuki doesn't stand a chance." They.. growled? At him. Yuri's lip turned up. "Look I don't have time for this. If you want to fangirl over Katsuki, write him a fan letter or something." He tried to push past them but they blocked his way.

"We can't let you compete." The shorter girl said. Yuri scoffed.

"Oh yeah? You and what army?" He was caught off guard with a punch to the stomach. The latched on, pushing and shoving, pulling on his clothes. He held up his arms in defense. "Get off me! What the hell!" Yuri pushed them away trying to run the other way.

"We're not going to let you hurt Yuuri!" A fist collided with his eye socket.

 _Damn this girl has a left hook._

Yuri was about to just call it quits and play dead when the sound of a motorcycle revved behind them. The girls stopped their attack and fled the scene. Yuri wiped the corner of his mouth on his sleeve. He turned to face the guy on the motorcycle.

"Thanks, pal, but I had it covered."

"It sure looked like it," a familiar voice chuckled. Yuri looked closer.

"Beka?" His eyes widened in shock, "I thought you were kidding? What are you doing here?" Otabek tossed him a helmet from the back.

"Get on."

Otabek wove around the streets of the city. Yuri wrapped his arms around his best friend's waist relishing in the ability to do so.

I was sure he was joking about flying to Paris…

They stopped outside the back entrance of the hotel. Beka turned off the bike and waited for Yuri to slide off. Yuri stood next to him, shielding his face with his hair. Otabek removed his helmet and stood next to him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." Yuri wouldn't make eye contact. He sniffed preventing his bloody nose from dripping.

"That doesn't look good," Otabek squinted, pushing Yuri's hair away from his eye. Yuri put his fingers up to his eye, he winced as they brushed what had to be a nasty bruise. He pulled out his phone and looked in the front camera. The skin around his eye was puffy and already turning a deep shade of purple.

"Shit." Yuri's heart rate began to increase. He paced back and forth. "I have to hide this." Otabek looked at him concerned.

"Yuri it's ok."

"No, it's not!" Yuri snapped. "I have to see Baba." He turned and ran towards the door, pushing himself inside and up the back stairs. Otabek raced after him, he chased the unexpectedly fast teenager up several flights of stairs and down the hall. He almost slammed into him as Yuri stopped outside one of the rooms. Yuri banged on the door with his fist.

"Open up Baba!" Mila came to the door and yanked it open with a very annoyed expression.

"Get out of here Yuri, I'm trying to sleep." Yuri pushed past her and into the room, Otabek followed with a mumbled apology. "I'm serious! Whatever it is it can wait until-" She stopped when she saw his ripped clothes and bruised face. "Oh my God.. Were you mugged?" She brushed the hair away from his face for a better look.

"Help me cover it up," Yuri begged.

"What? Like with makeup? Yuri…"

"Please Mila. I can't let them see this." She looked at him with a confused expression. He grit his teeth.

"Who? Yuri this isn't something you should keep a secret."

"You don't understand!" Yuri shouted. "I can't have another issue. Nothing can go wrong on this trip or…"

"Or what?" Mila asked. Yuri's hands bounced anxiously by his sides.

"Yura?" Otabek asked. His stomach was uneasy watching this odd behavior from his usually confident friend. Yuri's mouth was shut tight.

 _I can't tell them. They'll think I'm weak._

"I'm not doing anything until you explain yourself," Mila said, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you mixed up in?"

"It's not like that. Lilia and Yakov… If something goes wrong they'll send me away."

"Away? Why?" Mila uncrossed her arms.

"They think… they're worried.." Yuri fumbled his breath dancing helplessly over his lips. Otabek placed a hand on his shoulder. "If I don't prove that I'm better they'll stick me in a hospital."

"Are you injured?" Otabek asked, scanning over Yuri's frame. Yuri took a long breath and looked at the gaudy pattern on the carpet.

"Not that kind of hospital." The hand on his shoulder slipped off.

"What are you saying?" Otabek asked quietly.

"After the accident… I wasn't myself. I guess I was depressed or something." A blush settled over Yuri's face.

"Was?" Otabek asked. A cold feeling branched across his chest.

"Am. Whatever. It doesn't matter I'm fine." Yuri looked at them.

 _They look sad. Dammit. I don't want any pity_.

"Georgie is depressed," Mila said, her eyes bore into him. "And they've never threatened to send him away."

"I said something that scared them," Yuri mumbled. The air became heavy around them filled with unsaid words.

"Yuri no…" Mila said, piecing together what must have happened. Her eyes watered and Yuri noticed.

"Why didn't you call me? We're you just going to… do it… without saying anything? I'm your best friend. Why wouldn't you come to me?" Otabek looked like he wanted to shake Yuri violently, but his hands remained at his sides.

"It was just something I said! I'd never actually do it." He turned to face Otabek. "Beka, I'd never hurt you like that. You have to believe me."

"I want to Yuri, but people don't say stuff like that if they don't mean it. Did you mean it? Even a little bit?" Yuri looked down. He couldn't give an answer that would reassure them.

"I don't mean it anymore." Yuri looked at both of them praying their reactions wouldn't be to drag him off to the mental ward. Mila shook her head and disappeared into the bathroom. Beka sat on the edge of the bed with his gaze on his hands. "Beka, Mila… I didn't want to scare you guys but I need your help."

"You need help Yura, but not from us." Otabek's tone was cold as if he was trying to push away his emotions.

"And I'm going to get it! But right now I just need to get through the weekend." He walked over to the bathroom door. "Mila please, help me cover this bruise so I can compete tomorrow." The door opened slowly, Mila stepped out with red puffy eyes and a makeup bag in hand.

"Alright. But no more of this secrets. No more bullshit. If you have a problem you have to talk to someone. No more self-destruct mode, ok?" Yuri nodded,

"Never again."

Mila applied a thick layer of concealer covering the bruise completely. They had a similar skin tone so it matched Yuri's complexion well enough.

"It's not perfect, but it will work." Yuri looked in the mirror hanging on the wall over the desk.

 _As long as they don't look too closely, no one will know_.

"Thanks, Baba," he said. Mila nodded. She put away the makeup and set it on the bedside table.

"I'll have to reapply it tomorrow, stop by before you go down for the opening ceremony."

"I owe you one," Yuri said. Mila wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"And I plan on cashing that in Tiger, you better be around when I do." Yuri was stiff in her arms but he didn't push her away, Mila took that as a win.

He and Otabek left Mila to get some sleep. They walked the halls and stopped outside Yuri's room. They stood in silence.

"You've been quiet," Yuri said. Beka pursed his lips but didn't say anything. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I didn't tell anyone. Victor figured out and ratted on me." Yuri rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm kind of glad he did. I mean I was pissed at the time but… I don't want to think of what could have happened if he didn't." A look of pain flashed across Beka's face. "I don't mean that... At least, I don't think I do." Yuri leaned against the door to his room. "I don't know how to explain it. I wasn't thinking straight. I couldn't feel anything. I've never experienced anything like that before. I lashed out and I regret it… but I would do it again if it meant the emptiness would go away."

"Yura, stop." Beka's voice was strained. "I want to hear this and be there for you but I can't. Not all at once. I- I just keep thinking of how I almost lost you." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dumped this all on you." Yuri turned and placed a hand on the door knob. Otabek grabbed his arm.

"Yura that's not what I meant," he sighed, "I'll always be there for you…" Beka prompted Yuri to make eye contact. "Will you be there for me?" Yuri felt his stomach drop and his eyes felt hot.

"Of course. Always." Beka nodded, he finally felt at ease.

"You have to be at dinner in a few hours with everyone else. You should get some sleep before then." Yuri nodded. _He believes me._

Yuri left Beka and flopped down on his bed. He was careful not to smudge the concealer and double checked his alarm. He let himself sleep, relieved that he was no longer harboring secrets, relieved the voice in his head remained silent.

Yuri woke up an hour and a half later to the sound of his alarm. He threw on some clothes and headed downstairs. Yakov met him in the lobby. They rode together to the restaurant. They were meeting up with the rest of the team and a few of the other skaters. When they walked in it was hard to ignore the way people turned their heads. Yuri felt his heart began to pound.

"I'm surprised he's here." "There's no way he'll be at the level he was before." whispers surrounded them. Yuri could feel himself sliding into a state of panic. They sat down at a long table. Mila and Georgie sat across from him, Yakov was at the head of the table, and Lilia had planted herself in the seat to Yuri's left.

 _Great._

He actively ignored the side glances everyone was giving him. The table slowly began to fill up with other skaters and coaches. They ordered drinks and appetizers. Conversation settled naturally over them. Much to Lilia's dismay Yuri gave his attention to his phone.

"Privyet!" Yuri looked up as he heard the familiar and oh so annoying voice. Victor. "Mind if we join you?"

"Of course Vitya, who do you think those seats are for?" Mila gestured to the seats at the other end of the table with her second glass of wine in hand. The women weren't competing until Monday after the men and pair skating. Mila took that as an invitation to get a tad tipsy.

"You didn't tell me they'd be here," he whispered under his breath to Lilia.

"I didn't know," she replied taking a sip of her wine. They both glanced at Yakov who just shrugged. Yuri crossed his arms over his chest. "Be nice," Lilia said through a smile. He refused to look at that end of the them. Instead he listened to Mila lead the conversation of the table. She asked questions and laughed too much, but at least that meant Yuri didn't have to talk to anyone. When their food came Yuri could only pick at his. He was relieved that the meal was almost over.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you two acting so civil." Yuri and Yuuri looked up in horror. Coach Park probably didn't mean much by her words, but there was an immediate climate change in the room. "I would have thought there would have been some hard feelings." Victor smiled at her in a way that subtly showed how pissed he was.

"That's Yuuri and Yurio for you, professional as always." He placed a hand on Yuuri's knee under the table.

"I commend you two, an accident like that isn't something most people would be able to walk away from so easily."

"Thank you," Yuuri said, his tone was artificial. Yuri could feel their eyes on him. Victor and Yuuri were watching, Mila was gazing at him over her wineglass, and Lilia had her left eye permanently turned in his direction. His chest was beginning to feel tight. He picked up his water, his hands were shaking to the point where the sound of ice hitting the sides of his glass could be heard. He set down the glass and stuck his hands under the table. He chewed absentmindedly on his lip, willing the swarm of birds in his stomach to subside. He felt a kick from under the table. Mila looked at him and trailed her thumb subtly along her bottom lip. It was then Yuri tasted the blood. He whipped it away quickly unsure of how many people took notice.

"Yurio?" Victor said, effectively gaining his attention- and the attention of everyone at the table.

"Excuse me," He mumbled. Yuri disappeared into the men's room. He stood at the sink collecting himself. He wanted to walk out of the room with his head held high but something was holding him back. Fear had him in a chokehold. He couldn't seem to shake it's grasp. The second he went back to the table all eyes would be on him. He turned on the water as cold as it would go and splashed it over his face. He heard the door open and froze. He saw Yuuri in the mirror. Katsuki handed him a paper towel, which Yuri took with a quiet, "Thanks." Yuri dabbed the water off his face.

"Coach Park was out of line. Are you alright?" Yuri nodded. "So.."

"We don't have to talk about it. Not now."

"Ok," Yuuri said. He looked over and noticed the dark bruising around Yuri's eye. "What happened to your eye?" He asked, stepping closer. Yuri spun around to look in the mirror.

"No…" He muttered. He had completely forgotten about the makeup.

"Who hit you?" Yuuri stepped closer again but this time Yuri shied away.

"I had a run in with your fan club." Yuri's cheeks burned upon admitting he had been beat up by a couple of pre-teens. "Dammit… I can't go out like this."

"Then let's go back to the hotel," Yuuri suggested.

"Won't that raise a few eyebrows? Us leaving together?"

"Less than it would if we returned to the table with you sporting that shiner."

"Yakov will be pissed if I sneak out," Yuri said. Yuuri looked at his face and was oddly reminded of the time they stood under the waterfall.

"I've got it. Meet me out front." Yuuri exited the restroom and headed back to the table.

When he returned he trailed his hand across Victor's shoulders and stood next to his seat.

"Wheres Yuri?" Mila asked.

"We're both pretty tired from all the travel. Yurio and I are going to grab a cab back to the hotel." Victor looked at him the corners of his eyes turned up in question. Yuuri smiled at him and then at the rest of the table. "I know this is a bit rude, but with the competition tomorrow…"

"Of course. Have a good night," Lilia said. The others nodded. "Thank you, and good luck to everyone," Yuuri said. He leaned down to pick up his jacket off the back of the chair. Victor turned his head ever so slightly and Yuuri whispered a quick,

"Everything's fine. I'll explain later." He stuck some cash in his pocket for cab fare and left his wallet with Victor to pay for his meal. He headed out the front and met Yuri on the sidewalk. "So… you mentioned my fan club?" He asked. Yuri rolled his eyes.

"More like a gang of she-hulks." Yuuri chuckled and stuck out his arm to hail a cab.

The ride back was strangely comfortable. Yuri thought spending time with the Katsudon would bring back bad memories but instead he felt strangely comforted by his presence. They rode the elevator together up to their floor. Before they parted ways, Yuuri turned to face the young blond skater.

"See you tomorrow, good luck."

"Yeah, you too."

* * *

 **This chapter is wild. I know. It's a lot all at once... I was hesitant to write it and I know that this could potentially make some people very upset with me. I hope enjoyed it. One chapter left folks! As always I'd love to hear from you.**


	13. Chapter 13

"Will you stop fidgeting? I'm trying to make this even," Mila said as she dabbed concealer under Yuri's eye. The bruises were worse today, darker and harder to hide.

"Sorry," Yuri said, but his leg continued to bounce restlessly.

"There…" Mila stepped back examining her handywork. She bit the corner of her mouth, "the black eye is pretty much gone but I don't know if there's anything I can do for your lip." She trailed her finger across Yuri's cracked and scabbed over lower lip. She jokingly flashed a tube of lipstick, "no offence, but I don't think red is your color." Yuri didn't even acknowledge the comment. "Come on pixie, you'll be alright." Mila slung an arm over his shoulders and ruffled his hair. "Why so tense?" She asked. Yuri shrugged and continued to study the patterned carpet. "You know there are ways to… unwind," Mila coed in his ear, she leaned against him and trailed her fingernail down his neck. Yuri's lip turned up,

"You're disgusting." Mila stood up with a small smirk on her lips, thankful Yuri wasn't completely catatonic. There was a knock at the door and their banter stopped. Mila opened the door and let Otabek in.

"I know why I'm up at four in the morning," Mila said, she sent a pointed glance at the blond teenager who came pounding at her door almost an hour beforehand. "What made you get out of bed before the sun?" Mila asked Otabek. He smirked,

"It's not so early in Kazakhstan."

"Well I'm going back to sleep now that my civic duty is taken care of. You two are welcome to watch TV or something in _your own rooms_." Mila flopped onto the bed.

"I should get to the rink." Yuri stood and pulled his bag onto his shoulders.

"Yuri you don't have to be there for hours," Otabek said, taking note of the nervous way Yuri picked at his fingernails.

"Just because I'm kicking you out doesn't mean you should go to the rink. You have a ridiculous amount of time," Mila added, burying her face into the hotel pillows.

"Whatever baba, go to sleep."

"Wake me up for happy hour," Mila mumbled. Yuri walked out of the room being trailed closely by Otabek.

"Let's get breakfast or watch early morning talk shows," Otabek said, catching up to Yuri on his way towards the elevator.

"No thanks," Yuri said.

"Come on, I never get to see you in person. Humor me." Yuri paused.

"I don't think I _can_ eat right now. I just want to get ready for later."

"I understand you're nervous but this is insane." Yuri stopped suddenly and turned on his heels.

"Yeah well maybe I'm _not_ sane," Yuri snapped. "You don't understand, you have no idea."

"Yura…" Otabek looked uncomfortable. "Maybe you should rest."

"Rest?" Yuri chuckled under his breath. "Beka I didn't sleep last night. Or the night before that, hell, I haven't slept in weeks. The last thing I want to do right now is be alone in the dark." Yuri froze.

 _Shit._

Otabek's jaw was clenched. He wouldn't meet Yuri's eyes.

 _Shit. Dammit. Why did I open my stupid mouth._

Yuri pushed his hair back and gripped the straps of his bag like they were the only things keeping him on the ground. "Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's ok," Otabek replied cooly. "If you want I'll give you a ride to the rink." Yuri's heart thumped in his chest. "Come on, the bike's out back." Otabek pushed the button to call the elevator. Yuri's mouth was suddenly bone dry.

"No, I-I've changed my mind," Yuri muttered under his breath. Otabek looked at him with a quizzical pinching of his brow. "I don't want to go to the rink." Yuri crossed his arms across his chest.

"Do you want to stay here?"

"No." Otabek scoffed, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"So you don't want to go to the rink, and you don't want to stay here, and you don't want to get food… what do you want?"

Yuri shrugged. Every option just amplified the butterflies in his stomach. The elevator arrived with a ping. Beka stepped inside motioning for Yuri to follow. Yuri stepped on and watched the doors slide closed. Otabek was leaning with his shoulders pressed against the wall his hands were seated in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Where are we going?" Yuri asked.

"Nowhere in particular," Otabek replied.

They zipped along the cobblestone streets of Paris, way, way too fast. The world around them was just starting to wake up. The sun peaked over the buildings with a rosy glow. Boulangeries began to open their doors and the smell of baked goods filled the air. Yuri clung to Otabek, his cheek was pressed against his leather covered shoulder. The wind whipped tears into his eyes and the sharp corners made his stomach drop. It was a wonderful distraction. Yuri closed his eyes letting himself relax.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" Otabek asked over the roar of the engine.

"No," Yuri mumbled with obvious fatigue in his voice. He felt Beka shake with laughter.

"Just don't fall off."

"Who are you? My mother? Step on it." Otabek obliged gladly.

They were pushing it, barely making clean turns at this speed. Yuri wasn't thinking about the competition or his free skate. The only thing that he could feel was the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Yuri watched the world zip past them. He was barely able to make out the buildings as they passed them. He tipped his head back and watched the sunrise. They turned to head into the deeper back allies of the city. The tires skidded against the street and for a moment they were sideways. It Beka was shaken he didn't show it. Yuri on the other hand could feel his spine begin to tremble. Otabek swerved to avoid a cluster of bins and for a second they were out of control. "Ease up," Yuri said, beginning to feel a familiar unease spread like a frost in his ribcage. Otabek couldn't hear him over the roar of the wind. This was wild. Untamed. Unpredictable.

 _Slow down. Fuck._

Yuri's fingernails dig into the leather of Otabek's jacket. Otabek turned off into an even more cramped alleyway. Yuri's stomach was in his throat. He could practically see the bike spin out of control. His imagination began running faster than the motorcycle. The would end up in a pile of blood and broken bones, Yuri was sure of it."I want to get off," he ground out. The wheels seemed to be coming out from under them. "Beka stop!" Yuri yelled to be heard over the engine. Otabek's head snapped to the side so he could look over his shoulder. Yuri clung to him, barely able to breathe. The front tire caught in a pot hole and they jerked to the left. A stray cat was lingering next to a dumpster, it's eyes reflected the motorcycle's headlight as they barreled towards it. Yuri's chest froze over.

"Yuuri watch out!" Yuri shouted. He could dimly hear the sound of screeching tires. It sounded like a scream, like a crowd screaming. The bike skidded across the asphalt. Yuri was thrown against Otabek with the momentum enough to knock the wind out of him. By the time they collided with the dumpster the bike was sideways and the cat was long gone. It wasn't a hard collision, they nicked the side of the metal dumpster and the bike toppled over. Otabek put his leg down the keep them from falling. The second they were stopped Yuri jumped off. His legs were shaking so hard he stumbled over to the brick wall and used it to hold himself upright. Otabek floated in front of him. Yuri ripped the helmet off his head his lungs still refused to corroborate. He put a hand to his side, the phantom pain of shattered bone stuck through him like a knife.

He slid down the brick and put his head in between his knees.

"Yuri, are you ok?"

" _There's been a collision on the ice… Are you ok?..."_

The memory of voices swirled in Yuri's head making him dizzy. "Yuri answer me. Are you hurt?" Otabek's hands were on his shoulders, on his arms, he pulled on Yuri's jacket.

" _Yuuri open your eyes! Please!"_

" _Best of luck to you Yuri Plisetsky."_

" _74.58."_

"Yuri look at me," Otabek demanded. The fog around him cleared just enough that he could see Beka's worried expression. "That was stupid. I wasn't paying attention to how fast we were going. I'm so sorry."

" _I'm so sorry Yurio."_

This wasn't like the other flashbacks. This was suffocating, terrifying, nauseating.

 _God help me._

Beka was shaking him. "Snap out of it. Look at where you are." Yuri tried to focus on his voice, on the hands that were gripping his shoulders. Beka lowered his head so that it was mere inches away from Yuri's. "What is this?" He whispered close to Yuri's ear. "Come back to me."

" _I wanted to die! And I still do."_

" _Don't fight it Yuratchka."_

" _What the hell is scaring you?"_

He was paralyzed.

Reality returned to him slowly at first than all at once, slamming into him with the force of a crashing motorcycle. He gasped pushing against the arms that held him. "It's ok, you're okay," Otabek said, he absorbed the weak attack gracefully. Yuri was sweating and panting like he'd just run a marathon. He covered his face with a shaky hand. Otabek kneeled close by, his face was contorted with a mixture of shock, worry and guilt. "Yuri what the hell was that?" Yuri studied him.

 _He's fucking terrified._

Yuri wanted to give him an explanation that would make sense. An explanation that would put his mind at ease. But he didn't have one.

"I don't know… I-" Yuri stammered. He could feel himself shivering. Otabek lowered himself so they were sitting side-by-side. "I thought if I just pushed through it would stop." Yuri tipped his head back and stared at the sky.

Otabek's eyebrows creased.

"I've never seen anything like that. It looked like you were having some kind of stroke."

Yuri huffed in a sort of laughter. "I was thisclose to calling an ambulance." The corner of Yuri's mouth pulled up in a half hearted smirk.

"Considering you can't speak French that would be an interesting phone call." Otabek rolled his eyes.

"Let's get out of here," Otabek said, standing and offering Yuri a hand. "The rink's just down the street from here." Yuri took his hand and once standing pulled his jacket tightly around himself.

"What about the bike?"

"Leave it. I'll come back for it later."

They walked down the sidewalks basking in warm sunlight. Yuri tried not to let his mind wander and instead he focused on the sounds of the city around them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, sending a quick message to Yakov. It was still early, but at least now there was less of a chance of Yakov murdering him for dragging him out of bed to practice. Besides it was payback at this point.

Yakov was standing outside the building when they arrived.

"I see you finally decided to show up," he said. Yuri rolled his eyes.

"I'm the one that called you remember?" He muttered under his breath. He and Otabek were ripped apart and whisked to opposite sides of the ice. Otabek was sent to the stands and Yuri to the changing room. He slid on his costume and shoved his headphones on, blasting music to drown the world out. Yakov watched him rehearse Agape over and over again in the open "back stage" area. No matter how many times he ran through Yuri couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something. He sat down on a chair in the corner. Other skaters were beginning to arrive and he did his best to blend into the background. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, keeping his music at an unhealthy volume. He could feel someone sit next to him he grit his teeth and turned, ready to bit the head off of whoever disturbed him.

The freaking pork cutlet. "What do you want?" Yuri sneared. Yuuri was bent over lacing his skates.

"Did you see the lineup?" He asked casually.

"No." Yuri adjusted the way he was sitting. Yuuri paused to look up at him.

"Yurio, you're first."

 _What?!_

"So?" Yuri said, shoving his unease deep within himself. Yuuri just stood and walked out towards the ice.

"Warm Up's in ten."

Yuri pulled on his skates and joined the others on the ice. He knew his movements were mechanical, that they lacked any semblance of grace but it was all he could do to hide the way his knees knocked together. Yakov signaled from the side to practice his quad toe loop.

 _Great._

Yuri swallowed down the fear that was climbing up his throat and set up for his jump. He made sure there was room. He double and triple checked. He glided into a quick loop, gathering momentum. Just before he caught the ice with his toepick for take off he caught the glimpse of purple colored fabric. Yuri skidded to a halt, spraying ice shavings. His heart pounded madly in his chest. He could have easily completed the jump with room to spare but there is no way he'd risk it. The raven haired skater in front of him smirked.

"Careful kitten," JJ said, looping around Yuri in a lazy circle. "I'd be offended but apparently this just means you're intimidated by my amazing ability." Yuri grit his teeth.

"Shut the hell up you asshole," he growled.

"My, my, is that a tremor in your voice?" Yuri lurched for him his stomach was boiling. JJ avoided his grasp. He placed a hand on Yuri's shoulder and leaned so close that Yuri could feel JJ's breath on his neck. "Watch the camera's sweetheart. Wouldn't want to make _another_ scene now would you?" he whispered. Yuri's attention was drawn to the sound of snapping cameras. Everywhere. All eyes and cameras in the entire building were turned on him, waiting for him to make a mistake.

Yuri spun and quickly skated for the exit. Yakov intercepted him.

"What do you think you're doing? Go warm up," Yakov ordered. Yuri's vision was growing dim around the edges. He was struggling to maintain a regular breathing pattern. He reached down and shakily pulled on his skate guards. Yakov noticed the signs of panic and lowered his voice. "Are you alright?" Yuri was taking long breaths, his eyes here closed. He shook his head in response.

"I'm gonna be sick," he choked out through clenched teeth. He was pushed into the men's room which was thankfully empty. His nervous stomach expelled the small amount of food he'd eaten the night before along with stomach acid that made his eyes water. He spit the foul taste out of his mouth and backed out of the stall. Yakov was standing idle. It was hard not to notice how the Agape costume now hung loose in some places. _He's lost weight,_ Yakov thought, handing his student a bottle of water. Yuri took a sip to rinse his mouth.

"Are you-" Yakov started.

"It's just nerves," Yuri said, pushing open the door and walking out with our making eye contact with his coach. "That Canadian ass doesn't know what he's talking about."

Yuri stood at the railing and shifted his weight to stretch his calfs. Lilia appeared beside them.

"Less than five minutes Yuri, are you ready?" She asked. Yuri nodded curtly. A camera man swung around behind him.

 _I can't mess up._

The audience was getting riled up, they became a collective roar that echoed over the entire room.

 _I can't mess up._

His eyes widened as he looked across the stands. All around him Russian flags were raised. His heart skipped a beat.

"Yuri Plisetsky!" The announcer's voice called. He froze. His feet remained planted in place. Yakov took it upon himself to provide a helpful nudge. Yuri tripped forward onto the ice sending a pointed glare back at his coach. He had merely seconds before Agape would start to play.

 _I can't do this!_

His mind was screaming in panic. He was on the verge of collapsing in a heap of sweat and tears when a voice rang out from the crowd.

"Yuri, Davai!"

* * *

 **A.N~ This isn't what I wanted this chapter to be like. This isn't the end and I so badly wanted it to be. I'm struggling to get one word on a page let alone thousands. I can't help but feel I'm letting people down, most of all myself. This isn't a full chapter, hell, it's not even edited. I just don't seem to care. This is my story, my child, and I don't care... sorry for this mini crisis it was unplanned and unexpected (kind of like me lol) I need some time so much like Noragami I think this will be the start of my hiatus. Fell free to PM me for spoilers or suggestions. Errgggg this it makes me mad I have to write this I'm very much a 'push through it' kind of person but I need to pull myself together before I can tear any characters apart. Thank you for all of your support! It really, truly, means the world to me. -Until next time, I Can Never Tell**


	14. Make it Back

_Take it. Everything._

The music flew out of the speakers like a flock of doves.

 _Agape. Unconditional love_. Yuri's heart thumped with every note. He let it move him. His back arched as he looped across the ice. _God's love. Or the love of a parent._

His breath danced in the air and fragments of his soul floated up into the lights. The doves rushed past him showering the ice in snow-white feathers. Yuri could feel himself slipping, his control was faltering. The room swirled around him. Combination. Axel. step sequence. Yuri poured himself out, he left nothing. The grief that he had held so heavy in his heart was finally escaping. He was free and he was flying. He spun with his head tipped up, the ceiling disappeared and he lost himself in the stars. The rink around him transformed into a small clearing in the woods. This was the ice his mother skated on, the ice that raised him. Fear was not absent and it rattled his chest with every gasp for air. The only thing keeping him moving was the fact that he didn't care. He didn't care if he failed, he didn't care if he fell, he didn't care if his neck snapped or his heart failed or his career went up in flames.

 _I'm on borrowed time. It doesn't matter what happens. Yuri Plisetsky should have died months ago._

And he had. The person on the ice now was unrecognizable. He skated in a way that held nothing back, in a way that left nothing to the imagination. He flew into his quad toe loop with both arms raised above his head.

 _If I come down on this ice so be it. I'll go down fighting._

He closed his eyes tightly and let his body move purely by memory. His skates kicked up ice and it flashed like shards of glass in the light. The music signaled his combination and his heart faltered. His toepick caught the ice and sent him flying into the air. For a second he thought he would never come down. He'd just drift away. Gravity pulled on him and his skate bounced off the ice with a crack. He twisted into the triple flip and let his mind wonder as he spun.

 _They sent me flowers._

A bouquet the color of blood. Blossoms that would only be beautiful for a second; how fitting. He wasn't paying attention and his ankle rolled out from under him. He sprawled onto the ice. Pain grew up his leg in thick vines. He climbed to his feet and glided out of the faltered combination. His ankle throbbed with every heartbeat. He grit his teeth. A rolled ankle was nothing compared to the throbbing in his chest. It was nothing compared to the comments and the criticism. He prepared for his quad lutz.

 _I'll make them see. I'll make them understand what they've done even if it's the last thing I ever do._

His feet left the ground and he fought to hover there forever. He couldn't focus on any of the faces around him as he passed them but he could feel them there. His Agape. They were all there.

 _This is where it ends for me. This is it._

He was sure, so sure that he would not be stepping off this ice. Heaven would come to collect him and he would be gone. That would be alright. It gave him a chance to fight back. His heart roared.

 _I am the ice tiger of Russia. I am a champion. I will go down a champion._

He skated without hesitation and with both arms raised. Tears leaked from his eyes and took the makeup with them as they fell onto the ice. He flung his arms out and embraced them all. He could see it from above; he watched himself perform from the rafters. He knew what would happen after. He would be covered and driven away. His grandpa would be there and his friends would be there and maybe even his mother. They would lower him into the ground and leave flowers on his grave. Mila would cry and Beka would run. He would run and run and might never stop running. But there was nothing Yuri could do to change that. There was nothing to be done. Yuri would become a memory; he would be preserved like a photograph on this ice until the end of time. He spun, pulling his leg up behind him.

 _Here lie Yuri Plisetsky._

His back arched and he reached up higher.

 _Held in our hearts forever._

The spin was over and Yuri knew he was running out of time. His heart beat with Agape and when this song ended so would he. His body was shaking and his legs were weak and fragile. Only a few notes to go.

 _I didn't mean to hurt him. Can you see that now? Can you see I'm sorry?_

Yuri loved skating. He loved the sound skates made when they cut across the surface of a freshly smoothed rink. He loved the way the air was cold in his lungs and he loved the way his feet hurt after a long day of practice. It hurt that he would never see it again; ice so smooth you can see your reflection in it. He wanted to hold on. He wanted to be there to stand on the podium at the Grand Prix Final. He wanted to walk the streets of Paris with Beka and see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. But… something inside him knew. He was gone the second he stepped onto the ice. He felt himself coming to a stop. He could make out a few faces in the crowd.

 _I'm going to miss them._

Agape's final note rang out like the shriek of a flatline. The audience was silent. Lights flickered in front of his eyes like snow. He looked up and the light grew bigger. All at once everything erupted. The crowd was cheering, the sound rolled over Yuri and a smile tugged at his lips.

 _I did it!_

He laughed. He'd done it. All the work, all the preparation, it meant something. This is what they would remember. Not the crash, not the gossip, _this._

Yuri felt himself sway. His lungs burned for air but he was too tired to breathe. He fell. His back was cold, that was the last thing he felt. His arms were stretched out at his sides and his hair surrounded his head like a golden halo.

 _I am Yuri Plisetsky, Russia's champion and junior gold medalist, nothing can take that away from me. Nothing._

Yuri's eyes closed. The murmur around him grew into a roar. And then there was screaming.

"Yuri!" Victor shouted as he sprinted onto the ice. His coat flapped behind him as he dove to his knees, kicking ice up behind him as he slid to Yuri's side.

 _This was how it should have ended. Fate was finally catching up._

"Don't worry, Yurio, help's coming." Victor's words were directed at the young skater but Yuri couldn't hear them.

He was already floating away.

* * *

 **A.N: I made it back- sort of. I don't think I'm the same person I was two weeks ago. This was going to be an easy ending, a happy ending. Well... I guess not anymore. Don't you just love a good cliff hanger? "She wouldn't do that! She wouldn't kill Yura! He's fine!" Are you sure? Do you know me well enough to finish this chapter with comfort? hmmm. Interesting. Did you feel it in your heart when you realized he might not be coming back? Do you still feel it? He could push away the hands trying to help him and get up, he could not. Why should he get up? What would he fight for? Everything? Nothing? I guess we'll just have to wait and see...**

 **I will reply so if you have strong feelings be my guest and express. I know this was short and sweet but it was dense. MORE TO COME. As always, I Can Never Tell.**


	15. Wartime

**A.N~ Oops I accidently disappeared for an outrageous amount of time... my apologies**

* * *

"Yuri," voices floated around him. "Open your eyes. Wake up." Hands prodded his shoulders and cheeks. Yuri felt them pulling him to the surface. His consciousness surfaced from deep water.

" _Just let me go."_ Victor frowned at the barely audible whisper that left Yuri's lips. Yuri turned his head as the poking became more urgent. His nerves woke up and tingled up and down his limbs.

"Yura," Yakov said, shaking his student's shoulder roughly. Yuri groaned and his eyelids fluttered open. The intensity of the lights cut into his eyes. He was still on his back in the middle of the ice. Victor and Yakov were on either side of him. It was hard to tell how much time had passed. For Yuri, it felt like an eternity.

 _I was so close_

"There you are," Victor said softly, a smile pinched the corners of his eyes. "Let's get you up." They put hands on either side of him and helped him sit up. His muscles ached from the small movement. His heartbeat throbbed in his skull.

"Slowly," Yakov grunted as he and Victor pulled Yuri to his feet. His body was trembling and they held tightly to him so he wouldn't fall. His left ankle protested his weight and he had to rely heavily on them as they hobbled towards the exit. The audience clapped once they saw the skater on his feet. Yuri looked around, it didn't seem real. It was too bright, too loud, and too overwhelming. This wasn't what he expected to see when he came to. In fact, he didn't expect to see anything at all.

"I don't understand," Yuri mumbled.

 _I was gone_

Victor tightened his grip. His heart ticked violently in his chest. When they finally exited the gate Yuri reached down to put on his skate guards. Standing back up made his head swim and he braced on the boards with his elbows. Yakov placed a hand on Yuri's back. Yuri's hand moved up to the back of his head.

"Did you feel faint this morning?" Yakov asked. Yuri shook his head. "Did you eat?" Yuri shook his head again and Yakov sighed."Are you alright?" Yuri mumbled something he couldn't hear. Yakov leaned closer.

"I want to get my score," Yuri repeated. He pushed himself off the boards and took a step towards the Kiss and Cry. Sweat was dripping down from his forehead and when he put weight on his left foot he bit his lip and immediately shifted onto his other leg. Yakov gave him his arm to brace on and Yuri used it to limp over to the platform. Lilia slid onto the seat next to him and took his hand in hers. Yuri looked over at her and she gave his hand a squeeze. The fans sitting behind them were electric. Russian cries and praise fluttered down to them. Yuri turned and looked at them. Russian flags and posters were held up all around him. Yuri gaped at them awestruck. Yakov rubbed his back and Yuri turned to face the screen in front of him. His ankle was seriously starting to hurt and he had a headache. Lilia handed him a bottle of water. Yuri's eyes stared at the screen. His legs were shaking from fatigue and nerves. He couldn't remember his performance. He couldn't remember if it was enough to qualify, it was all just a blur.

"This is taking forever," he ground out. His voice sounded weak and didn't carry the bite he intended it to.

"You don't have to wait here," Yakov said under his breath. "You should see the trainer as soon as possible."

"I'm fine,' Yuri spat.

 _Unfortunately_

His heart beat wildly in his temples as if it was mocking the fact that he was still alive. Something inside him was on edge. It was convinced he wasn't supposed to be there. The screen flashed suddenly making him jump.

 _No way_

The water bottle fell from his hand and rolled across the floor. Yakov thumped his back. He had to read the score over again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Good Yuratchka!" Yuri felt like his heart was spinning.

"Personal best and the highest score we've seen this season," the announcer said. Yuri couldn't believe it. He couldn't breathe. He folded in on himself with his hands covering his face. It took all his effort to not sob in front of the world.

 _I'm going to the Grand Prix Final. I made it._

Lilia's hand rubbed circles on his upper back. Camera's flashed all around him. His hands wrapped around his head trying to contain the head splitting headache. Yuri was ushered to his feet and he tripped down the two steps off the platform. Victor was standing there to greet him.

"That was amazing!" Victor cooed. Yuri rolled his eyes at him and collapsed onto the nearest chair.

"Shouldn't you be with the piggy?" Yuri flicked the sweat off his face before it could fall into his eyes. Victor knelt and pulled at Yuri's laces.

"Yuuri is getting changed, he'll be back soon though don't worry!"

"I wasn't worrying," Yuri ground out with his arms crossed over his chest. Yakov walked over and stood next to him. Yakov handed him a towel and he wiped his face and the back of his neck.

"That was the best I've seen Agape performed all year. Yuuri will say the same I'm sure when he gets back," Victor said.

"What makes you think I care what he has to say? " Yuri snapped. Victor chuckled and continued to unlace Yuri's skates. When he tugged on the left skate, Yuri hissed.

"Ow! Stop it!" He tried to jerk his leg away but Victor held it in place.

"Okay, okay," he soothed. Yuri settled back into the chair, gripping the seat with white knuckles. "I'll be careful," Victor said, slowly working the skate off his foot. Yuri grit his teeth and tried to ignore the people bustling around him. Security prevented the press from coming any closer but they hovered. Yuri crossed his arms over his chest. Victor ran his hand along Yuri's ankle triggering a curse from the younger skater.

"Is it broken?" Yakov asked.

"No," Yuri huffed. He was ignored.

"I don't think so," Victor said. Yakov nodded. He placed a hand on Yuri's head and could feel the bump beneath his fingers. Yuri shied away,

"Don't touch it." Yakov withdrew his hand.

"Banged your head pretty good when you fell," Victor observed. Yuri just glared at him. He reached down to pick up his skates.

"I'm fine," he insisted. The movement gave him headrush and he had to brace his hand on Victor's shoulder not to fall out of the chair.

"Whoa careful," Victor said, pushing Yuri back in his chair. Yuri shook his head to clear the dizziness. Lilia walked over to them.

"The trainer is ready when we are," she said. Yakov nodded and coaxed Yuri to his feet. Yuri didn't bother fighting it. Victor moved to support Yuri's other side but Yakov stopped him,

"He's right. You're a coach now, you have your own skater to worry about." Victor stepped back and let Lilia take his place. They began dragging Yuri towards the door. A reporter intercepted them.

"That was quite a comeback. Do you have anything to say about the upcoming Grand Prix Final?" Yuri was out of breath, sweating, bruised, and light headed. He sent the camera his signature glare. Before Yakov and Lilia could drag him away he said,

"I'll have gold around my neck before the end of the year. Count on that."

When Yuri looked over he locked eyes with Yuuri. Katsudon was wearing the Eros costume and had an earbud in one his ears. "Davai," Yuri said as they walked past him. Yuuri looked like he was going to say something but Yakov and Lilia dragged the younger skater away before he had a chance.

The trainer was a younger man with dark hair and a heavy French accent. He had Yuri sit up on one of his exam tables were carefully maneuvered Yuri's ankle and took note of the swelling.

"It looks like you rolled it pretty good. Stay off it for at least a week. Ice it and keep it taped for the rest of the month to prevent re-injury." Yuri nodded and winced as the trainer wrapped med tape tightly around his ankle. Ice followed and quickly numbed the pain. "Do you know why you fainted?" The trainer asked. Yuri shrugged. "Did you eat today?"

"No, he didn't," Yakov interjected. The trainer nodded and rolled his stool across the room.

"It doesn't seem to be anything other than exhaustion and low blood sugar." He reached into the mini fridge and pulled out a jug of fruit juice. He poured it into a styrofoam cup and stuck a straw in the lid. "Start with this, and then food. We have to get some calories in you." Yuri took the cup and sipped on the straw. Lilia was beside herself tapping her foot and chewing so hard on the corner of her lower lip her lipstick was coming off.

"This is unacceptable Yuri, you know better." He wouldn't meet her eye. "We talked about this. You said you would take better care of yourself. You promised." Yuri rolled his eyes and turned his shoulder to them.

"I'm doing the best I can ok?" He muttered. That seemed to shut them both up. Lilia shook her head and turned to the trainer.

"Is there really nothing else we should be doing?" The trainer looked at her anxious figure and responded cooly,

"Just rest."

"And I'm assuming the short program tomorrow will have to be scratched?" Yakov asked.

"Well… Normally I would say yes but, I would really hate to see a free skate like that go to waste. If the swelling goes down and you can walk on it by tomorrow night you can stake." The trainer smiled at the look of surprise that crossed Yuri's face. "Just nothing too fancy, not that you would need it with your score today." He gave a final smile, walked over to his desk, and sat down to answer an email. Lilia turned to Yuri.

"That's it then. No quads tomorrow and you're going straight to the hotel after this."

"Like hell I am. There's no way I'm spending the rest of the day cooped up in a hotel room."

"Yuri it's that or you're going home. End of discussion," Lilia said thoroughly exasperated.

Only after he had drained the cup was Yuri allowed to hobble out of the trainer's room on borrowed crutches. He ducked into the locker room to change and ditch his entourage. He slipped into street clothes and donned his signature team Russia jacket. He glanced at his phone and saw that Otabek had texted him. A lot. He scrolled through the messages the last of which read, ' **Where the hell are you'.** Yuri scoffed internally and replied, ' **Locker room.'** He could see Otabek read the message immediately and not but a minute later the door was opened and footsteps ran in.

Otabek froze in front of his best friend eyeing the nearby crutches and the tired look in his eyes.

"You look worse than I do," Yuri scoffed. Otabek shook his head at the comment.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Yuri's response did not put the older skater at ease. He grit his teeth as Otabek collapsed onto the bench next to him, jostling his head. Otabek ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Are you really?" Yuri could only meet his eyes for a second before he felt choked up. He stared at the ground locking his eyes on a reflected spot of light on the tile. "Because… You don't have to be. Not with me." A single tear slipped from his eye and he flicked it away before it could even wet his cheek.

"I'm trying to be okay," Yuri all but whispered. He glanced over at Otabek, his eyes danced back and forth as he focused on his face. Otabek shifted his weight as if he could physically prepare himself to take on some of Yuri's burden.

"You went somewhere," Otabek started, "when you were skating. I could see it. And when you went down I thought you'd never come back." Yuri felt something cracking inside him, his heart ached like it had lost something, something he couldn't live without. "But you did. You got up."

"I didn't want to," Yuri snapped. His heart might be hurting but his stomach was filled with flames. "I was so sure that it was over." He shook his head with a bitter chuckle. "I was ready."

"Yura-"

"No. Don't. Don't tell me I'm being dramatic. Don't tell me I have so much to live for because I know. I know I have a life and people that care about me and a career doing what I love," another tear ran down his face, "I know it's fucked up but I've felt like I've been suffocating for months and for a second it was like I could finally breathe." Yuri blinked to clear his eyes. "I want my life I just don't know how to live it." Otabek sat quietly and let the words wash over him. Yuri angrily whipped at his face and took a deep breath. "This is where you tell me to get over myself and to ignore the things they're saying about me."

"I can't," Otabek said. Yuri's eyes widened. "What happened to you was fucked up. Nothing I can say is going to change that. They broke you." Yuri scoffed. "Yura, look at yourself. You know I'm right."

"So what? Am I broken forever then? I can't just keep falling apart."

"No. You fight back. You're a soldier, remember? So you get up and you make them regret ever underestimating you." Yuri snorted through his nose.

"Are you declaring war?" Yuri asked, an air of humor settling over them.

"Man the Battlestations," Otabek said with an almost undetectable laugh. Yuri looked at him for a second before they both burst out laughing. Yuri was relieved that the storm of emotions had subsided.

They let a silence settle over them. Soon, Yuri's bag of melted ice began to leak onto the floor, soaking his socks and sneakers.

"What did they say about your ankle?" Otabek asked. Yuri shrugged and reached down to throw away the bag of water.

"It's nothing," Yuri murmured. Otabek raised an eye at him.

"Really?" Otabek lightly tapped Yuri's ankle with his shoe. Yuri flinched and sucked air through his teeth.

"Screw you," he ground out causing Otabek to laugh under his breath.

"I'm sorry, does it really hurt?" Yuri only shrugged. Otabek's phone dinged and he glanced at it. "Mila's here. She says Georgie is next."

"Mila? Right, I forgot you two talk," Yuri pushed himself to his feet. He wasn't as light headed as he had been before the juice but his muscles still shook with even the small effort it took to stand. Otabek picked up the crutches and held them out. Yuri shook his head, "I don't need them." He took a step and visibly paled.

"Yes you do, you can't walk," Otabek said, pushing the crutches at Yuri more forcibly. Yuri ignored him and limped forward another step just barely putting weight on his left toes. Otabek watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Yuri-"

"It's barely a sprain, I'm fine," Yuri said cutting him off. He tried to ease more pressure onto his leg but sharp pain caused his knee to bend. Otabek was at his side in a minute. He supported Yuri around his waist and shoved a crutch under his opposite arm. Yuri grumbled at him but rested his weight on the crutch anyway. "What's the big deal?" Otabek asked quietly, still holding Yuri up.

"I don't want anyone to see," Yuri replied adjusting the crutch under his arm.

"See what? That you're injured?"

"I don't want to give them anything to talk about." Yuri pulled away, accepting the other crutch. Otabek looked at the way Yuri seemed to shrink into his jacket.

"Yura… The way you skated today, that's the only thing people are going to be talking about." They locked eyes and Yuri felt a blush creep up on his cheeks.

"You're an idiot," Yuri murmured. He crutched across the room leaving Otabek with a stupid smirk on his face. Yuri paused, "Are you gonna get the door?"

Otabek trailed Yuri closely as they snuck down the hall. Yuri had his eyes peeled for any sign of his coaches and Otabek made sure he didn't run into any walls or small children. When they got into the stands Mila waved them over. Yuri ditched the crutches and used Otabek's arm to climb down the bleacher steps. Mila slid over to give them a place to sit. Her eyes lingered on Yuri's wrapped ankle but she kept her mouth shut. Yuri sprawled out on the bench. He put his head on Mila's thigh and his ankle in Otabek's lap. The older two didn't even blink at his actions. Mila trailed her fingers through his long blond hair as Georgie's music started playing. From where he was lying Yuri could watch the performance on the large screen above the rink. He stared at it not really taking in Georgie's free skate. His eyes felt heavy and he let them drift closed.

 _Just for a minute_

He jumped when the people around him started clapping. Mila giggled at him as he shot up. Yuri rubbed his eyes, the sound was intensifying his headache.

"Do you want me to ride back with you to the hotel?" Otabek asked.

"No." Yuri laid back down and wrangled Mila's bouncing leg back under his head. He held it in place by wrapping his hand around the underside of her knee and resting his fingers on the top of her leg.

"You have sleep to catch up on," Otabek insisted.

"So?" Yuri closed his eyes again and let himself drift off.

He opened his eyes a few hours later. He looked around groggily realizing there was a leather jacket resting over his shoulders and a french braid holding the hair away from the left side of his face. He looked up and caught Mila's eye.

"Thank God," She said. "My leg fell asleep an hour ago." Yuri sat up slowly, holding the leather jacket on his lap.

"What time is it? Who's turn is it?" Yuri asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Before either of them could answer the announcer's voice came over the speakers.

"Up next Japanese skater Yuuri Katsuki." Yuri's mouth went dry. His heart fluttered with anxiety he didn't understand.

"I want to leave," he said. Otabek looked over at him with a raised brow.

"There's only one skate left," He said. Yuri thrust the leather jacket into its owner's hands.

"Let's go." Yuri stood quickly forgetting about his ankle and a burst of discomfort would have caused him to fall if Otabek hadn't stood to steady him.

"Fine. Let's go back to the hotel," Otabek said. Yuri ignored him and instead remained as still as a statue. His eyes were glued to the ice as Yuuri stepped out. Eros rang out of the speakers and stole Yuri's breath away. Otabek didn't fail to notice the way Yuri stood frozen like a deer in headlights. "Are you ok?" Yuri didn't respond. He couldn't look away from the ice. Yuuri set up for his first jump and Yuri flinched.

 _Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't fall._

Otabek placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yuri-" Otabek's voice cut off as Yuri turned and buried his face in his neck.

"I can't watch." His voice sounded as if he was begging. Yuuri landed his jump with ease.

"It's ok he landed it."

"There's two more," Yuri choked out.

 _He's been off the ice for a long time. If he get's hurt it's my fault._

"The triple combination-" Yuri spat just as Yuuri prepared for the jump. Otabek wondered how he could have known without watching. The crowd made a noise as Yuuri's hand touched down on the ice due to an over rotation. Yuri turned his head expecting to see blood and bone. He was instantly captivated by the effortless way Yuuri was skating. The Japanese skater was moving as if he had wings. Yuri stepped away from Otabek and watched the performance with his mouth gaping. Yuri felt his eyes become glassy. Everything that had built up over the past month was washing over him. All of the fear that he'd been holding in his chest began to evaporate. Yuuri was skating as if no time had passed as if the accident had never happened. When it was over Yuri's heart began beating again. He turned and ran down across the bleachers. Past Otabek and Mila, past the spectators and reporters, he kept going until he was next to the Kiss and Cry. He watched Victor pull Yuuri close into his side and hug him tightly when the score appeared on the screen. Yuri didn't know why he was there or what he was going to say. They walked down the steps together. The press was trying to advance upon them when Yuri spoke up, "Katsudon!" He walked over to them unsure exactly what his feet had in mind. Victor smiled brightly,

"Looks like both of you qualified for the Grand Prix Final, how great is that?" His voice was bubbly. Yuri ignored him and surged forward. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and hid his face against his shoulder. Yuuri stood frozen in place.

"I'm sorry about Moscow and I'm glad you're not dead," Yuri said quietly. Cameras flashed all around them.

"Ditto…" Yuuri trailed off. He looked at Victor helplessly. Yuri pulled away and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yurio-"

"Shut up. It doesn't mean anything," Yuri said, a blush of embarrassment flared across his cheekbones. "We're not friends piggy. I'll destroy you at the Grand Prix Final." Yuuri just laughed at him.

"We'll see."

More photographers moved in snapping dozens of pictures each. Yuri sunk into the collar of his jacket. His chest grew tight. Yuuri swung an arm over his shoulders snapping him out of his discomfort.

"What are you doing?" Yuri ground out.

"Just smile and wave," Yuuri replied through his teeth. After only a minute Yuri had to shift his weight onto his right leg only. Victor noticed. He walked over and moved in between them putting an arm around both of them.

"You ran all the way down here on a rolled ankle? That was pretty dumb."

"Shut up," Yuri replied under his breath. They continued to stand for pictures.

"Don't worry," Victor murmured into his ear, "we'll create a diversion." Yuri followed his eyes and noticed Otabek standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Be ready to run." Victor released Yuri's waist and in one smooth motion spun Yuuri against his chest and dipped him towards the floor. Once the cameras were effectively distracted Yuri hobbled in a slow escape. Otabek met him halfway and basically carried his weight until they were out of sight.

They stepped outside and into the last few minutes of sunlight. Yuri let the light fill him with a sense of hope.

"What now?" Otabek asked. Yuri thought for a moment. The wind blew his hair around his face. When he turned the golden light gave him a halo.

"It's like you said," Yuri glanced through the building windows locking his eyes on two familiar silhouettes,"we fight back."

* * *

 **I'll probably go back and chance a few things. I'll be going out of town soon and I didn't want to wait until I get back in like... a ridiculous amount of time haha. If you want me to write something specific let me know I'd love to work on some new stories while away. I don't know if I have anymore for this fic... all good things come to an end. If I went back it would be to fix/add more details. If you want to see more just suggest something- I'm craving new content. It's been a blast- XOXO I Can Never Tell**


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